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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521426">Other Lives</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXBeckyFoo/pseuds/xXBeckyFoo'>xXBeckyFoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:21:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXBeckyFoo/pseuds/xXBeckyFoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If Draco and Astoria Malfoy had been better people from the start, they would not have ended up married to each other. A life together is just the price they had to pay for loving the wrong people.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass/Theodore Nott, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. realities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goyle told them it was real gold—<em>it had to be</em>, what other way would they mark the occasion?</p><p>Draco had scoffed at his wide-eyed, pink-faced naivety as he brought it under the light of Zabini's wand, a satisfied laugh coming out as bursts of air at the way it glimmered. Draco might have been sat across a large glass table, victim to shadows and their empty dinner plates in between them, but he knew it was not real gold. He wanted to tell Goyle just that so he would stop twisting and turning it in different angles trying to find its worth, but if Zabini could keep that dim smile on his own face, holding his tongue as he pointed his wand in whichever degree Goyle needed, then he, too, could let their friend believe their lives actually mattered to the world around them.</p><p>Pouring another drink into his glass, Draco rubbed his thumb over his own yellow coin in his left hand. He pressed his skin deep into the ridges of the Ministry of Magic emblem, covering the X on each scale. He raised the glass of whiskey to his mouth, swinging it back just as he released his thumb over the coin. The imprint was now on his skin—<em>XX</em>. He reached for the bottle again, filling his glass as he narrowed tired, silver eyes at the mark that was already starting to disappear.</p><p>If only it had disappeared from the rest of his skin that easily—if only it had disappeared from his mind that easily, too.</p><p>But it was not about forgetting, it was about living despite it.</p><p>
  <em>XX. Twenty years.</em>
</p><p><em>That</em> was the accomplishment.</p><p>That was what the Ministry of Magic was commending when early morning it sent out hundreds of owls carrying gold coins to the ex-Death Eaters that had been reformed for twenty years now. It came with short, condescendingly eager notes from the Minister of Magic Percy Weasley and Head Luna Lovegood of the Department of Rehabilitation For Former War Criminals (Death Eaters)—eager for them to maintain the righteous, just path they had embarked on since the defeat of the Dark Lord, eager for them to remember they were fortunate to get a second chance, eager for them not only to never forget who they could be, but who they had been before.</p><p>"We don't need a sobriety chip for that," Zabini had said to Draco after Goyle had gone through the Floo in the Malfoys' drawing room. He tossed the metal coin in the air, catching it with the reflexes of their Quidditch days playing for Slytherin House. When it landed in his palm, the smirk that had tugged at the corner of his mouth disappeared, the bright jade in his eyes darkening to a forest green that sometimes haunted them in their sleep from the monsters that had emerged from within. "We know it's been twenty years. After all, we see the devil every time we look in the mirror."</p><p>"What do you think Goyle sees?" Draco had laughed, the sound and grin on his mouth thinly veiled to let even Blaise Zabini see through what he actually wanted to say but was still too much of a coward to say after two decades.</p><p>It was only after Zabini had secured his cloak on his shoulders and walked through the Floo that Draco allowed himself to even think it: they were prisoners sentenced outside of Azkaban. And the coins were a reminder of how much time they had been serving.</p><p>But the joke was on the Ministry—Draco wore the reminder every day. They couldn't see it, couldn't materialize it into a fake gold coin heavy enough to represent the weight of the last twenty years. Yes, he saw the devil in the mirror every day, but it was in his sleep, too—in the darkened halls of Malfoy Manor, in the silver scars his body never properly healed, in the pictures of his youth that survived the fire he lit one drunken night, in the way Goyle still talked to Crabbe as if he stood beside him, in the thick, black blotch of a Dark Mark Draco tried to carve out during another drunken stupor, in the way fear abruptly takes his lungs hostage, subduing him to a shaking mess, in the way people still walk around him like he's a plague, never lingering too long in his same space, in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, where he can still see the faces of prisoners lined up to get tortured or killed by the other devils, in the way he can still smell the stench of death after he was made to move the bodies, in Luna Lovegood's blue eyes that he can still see bruised purple and red, consequence of being brave, in the way Rolf Scamander still pulls her to his side when Draco encounters them, dutiful, protective husband until his last day, in the way he aggressively washes his hands, one, two, three, four times under burning water that still runs red from his own blood and all the others', in the way the Department of Rehabilitation promised it'd get better, but grief is a monster of another magnitude that knows no defeat, in the walls of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor that are still stained with blood and echo the cries of Innocence's death.</p><p>The reminder was in the way he lost Hermione Granger.</p><p>
  <em>Toujours pur.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sanctimonia vincet semper. </em>
</p><p>"I see you got that fucking coin, too." The bottle of whiskey was Accioed from Draco's hand before he could pour himself another drink. Theodore Nott smirked from the entrance of the Floo, raising the bottle to his mouth to take a long, selfish gulp. "Did our dearest dimwit tell you it's real? For fuck's sake, Goyle handles gold for a living, you'd think he'd know it's just as fake as Pansy's perky tits."</p><p>Draco narrowed silver eyes at Nott when he offered the whiskey back. He thought of bashing him over the head with it when his smirk once again pulled at the sides of his mouth, knowing well enough that Draco would not reclaim the bottle, but his thumb pressed into the coin again, breathing in and holding it for a second. When Draco exhaled, he stood from his armchair, moving over to an ancient glass cabinet that stored an expensive collection of aged liquors he locked under a particularly complex charm to keep others from touching.</p><p>"Pansy's new tits bring her as much joy as Goyle's belief that all these years of rehabilitation matter to the Ministry and society," Draco said, filling his glass with a dark cognac that he only drank when he truly needed to drown the memories and monsters in his head. After twenty years, he learned to let them take up space in his skull, bringing in furniture to make themselves comfortable despite all the counseling sessions that were determined to evict them. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with them, constant companions in his ears and behind his eyelids, but once in a while, the sound, sight, smell of them were too much.</p><p>"He thinks they've forgiven him," Draco then added, letting the cognac burn his tongue before swallowing it down.</p><p>Nott scoffed, his nose wrinkling before putting his lips on the bottle again. He moved to sit on the armchair across Draco's, the lavender shadows under his eyes became plum hues when the fireplace lit his face. The exhaustion that lived in those shades and the dark, faraway blue in his eyes were the only evidence of the demons he hid under every bite and hit he took at the expense of others.</p><p>"He's going to fill his pocket with these coins and still find that no one forgives Death Eaters," Nott said through gritted teeth, his left hand reaching into his own pocket. He pulled out a silver coin with XV on the Ministry of Magic's scale. He had been serving fifteen years. "We will always be our Dark Marks. We will always be our families heirs."</p><p>"Death and duty," Draco muttered, raising his glass. "That's all we are."</p><p>Nott did not drink to that. In the same fashion Draco had done earlier in his solitude, the latter lost himself in the coin in his palm. The burning flames not only lived in the fireplace Draco had lit with a twitch of his finger, but they were in Nott's navy gaze, his anger, grief, and resentment flickering in a combination stronger than the whiskey he clutched in his right fist.</p><p>"Did you tell him it wasn't real gold?"</p><p>As his left hand covered the silver coin with a white-knuckled grip, Nott slowly shook his head at Draco, tipping the bottle back into his mouth. "Goyle's got a better life than any of us. Who am I to shatter the illusion?"</p><p>If they were death and duty, Goyle had been and continued to be the opposite.</p><p>He did not carry the weight of those years marked on the coin's scale—he was not stained with blood or perpetually haunted by the ghosts of the people they had lost during the war. He was the representation of what the Ministry hoped to achieve when it founded the Department of Rehabilitation For Former War Criminals—evil, bigoted men transformed by remorse, patience, and encouragement. Previous heathens capable of being active, supporting members of society with wholesome, happy families that could take on roles in changing their future for the better.</p><p>"No, not an illusion," Nott then said, a snarl curled his lip back as he looked up at Draco. "His life's real. Ours is not."</p><p>
  <em>Toujours pur.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sanctimonia vincet semper. </em>
</p><p>Draco raised the gold coin for his old friend to see. "It's real, Nott. It's just shit."</p><p>Nott put up his own silver coin before raising the whiskey bottle, too. "A reminder of what was taken from us."</p><p>"A reminder of what we took from them."</p><p>"Oh, Merlin. They're at it again, Aunt Tori." Just as Draco and Nott were gulping down their respective drinks in an eerie, miserable toast to the things they were unable to forget, Darcy Nott whipped her long, black hair back as she turned to look at Astoria Malfoy, armed with an eye-roll and a dissatisfied huff she hoped to inspire in her aunt, too. "Bit late to be so gloomy, don't you think? Given your ages, you two should be tucked in and dreaming about all the people you'll be making miserable at your company in the morning."</p><p>Nott skillfully slid his silver sobriety chip back into the pocket of his trousers as Darcy came around to his side, sitting on the armrest of his seat to smile down at him, patting him one, two, three times on the head. "Bit late for you to be here, isn't it, darling? Don't you have work in the morning yourself?"</p><p>"I do, Daddy, but seeing as the owner of the shop is completely infatuated with me, I think I can be late and still keep my job."</p><p>Nott's blue eyes narrowed at his daughter, yet their matching shade glimmered happily in hers. "He's not the owner, Darcy. He's the son."</p><p>"The heir."</p><p>"Half of an heir," Nott corrected. "And not the brightest half at that."</p><p>Darcy tossed her head back, the happy, chiming laughter ringing out past her mouth filled the walls of the drawing room. If he squinted, Draco could almost see the echoes of his niece's mirth scrub at the darkness infested into the expensive, gold wallpaper his mother had put up in an attempt to pretend what the room had been an accomplice to did not exist.</p><p>But it had. The gold coin still heavy in his hand was proof of that.</p><p>"He makes me laugh, Dad," Darcy said, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in Nott's hand, sending it back in the direction of the cabinet her Uncle Draco had left open with a little wiggle of her nose.</p><p>"That's exactly what Weasleys are known for. Making people laugh."</p><p>"And he makes me <em>happy</em>," added Darcy, giving her father another pat on the head, this time with a sharper tone underlying her words. "And isn't that the most important thing in a relationship?"</p><p>"That's a childish notion—to believe all you need is love to make something work is foolish. Relationships are about more than that."</p><p>"It shouldn't be about more than that. Love should be simple when it's true." Nott's hands balled into fists when Astoria spoke, making herself fully seen as she stepped further into the room. The light provided by a polished chandelier above her brightened her smooth, blonde hair razored straight just below her chin, making the green of her eyes grow gold flecks just around the irises.</p><p>While Darcy shared her ever-present smile with her aunt, Draco noted that Nott refused to turn in Astoria's direction.</p><p>That's how Nott dealt with his own demons—by pretending they weren't there. And there was nothing Nott wished away more than Astoria.</p><p>"See? <em>She</em> gets it," Darcy nudged her father with her elbow, letting out a dramatic sigh before wrapping her arms tightly around him. "If only she wasn't the only one who supports my relationship with Freddie. You and Mum can learn a thing or two about parenting from Auntie A."</p><p>Nott gripped Darcy by the wrists, squeezing her tight like a lifeline that reminded him what truly tethered him to the world around him. And she was just that, the only good thing he had done.</p><p>Even if her existence reminded Nott every single day of what he was—<em>death and duty. </em></p><p>Even if her existence reminded Nott every single day of what he had lost—<em>Astoria</em>.</p><p>"Maybe we don't get it, sweetheart, but you can always count on Daphne and me supporting you on your charity work. Dating that Weasley boy counts as such, I suppose."</p><p>"Don't tell her that, Uncle Theo, or she'll end up moving in with Freddie in that room above his shop." Before Darcy's loud, horrified gasp could settle into the walls around them, the Malfoys' Floo was once again ablaze. This time it spit out his son, but he was not alone.</p><p>The last bit of cognac in his glass was now steaming from Draco's grip on the bottom of the thick glass. The magic in his blood felt like it was doing the same, blistering in his veins, evaporating out.</p><p>He recognized her wild curls and the wide, melting brown in her eyes that were all Granger.</p><p>He recognized the red in her hair and freckles scattered on her nose that was all Weasley.</p><p>"About time," Darcy huffed, standing from the armrest of her father's chair. "I didn't know how else to stall with this lot. It gets judgy in here when I talk too much."</p><p>"Yeah, well, we almost didn't show up," Scorpius mumbled, looking away from his cousin to the girl beside him. With a bravery inherited to her by all the Gryffindors in her family tree, she was looking at the others head-on, polite smile on her pink mouth, but determination sharp in her gaze. Draco saw his son draw from it in a manner that was all too familiar. "It didn't go so well at the Weasleys."</p><p>"<em>Catastrophic</em>, I'd say—"</p><p>"What did?" Astoria asked, cutting across another wave of Darcy's laughter. "Are you all right, sweetheart?"</p><p>"More than all right, actually," Scorpius looked between Astoria and Draco, lingering a little longer on the latter before reaching for Rose Weasley's hand. "We're getting married."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. daydreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco never slept on the nights his mind was plagued by her.</p>
<p>It was often he found himself sitting in the drawing room his mother had reupholstered to get rid of its <em>(their)</em> history, but the nightmares continued to live deep in the atoms that held up the walls. It was there where he went to think of her, to remind himself of all the horrible things she had endured when she was dragged in. He could still hear her sobs rebounding off the walls, he could still see his demented Auntie Bella on top of her, carving a foul word onto her skin, her red blood pouring out, seeping into the expensive carpet and then into the atoms of the floorboards.</p>
<p>She existed within the room even when it had never seen her again.</p>
<p>
  <em>Don't remember me like this.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>How can I not? I did that to you.</em>
</p>
<p>You<em> didn't.</em></p>
<p><em>Does it matter? It still happened</em>.</p>
<p><em>I'm not telling you to forget our past, Draco. I'm telling you to </em>heal<em>.</em></p>
<p>He had wanted nothing more than to mend himself whole; he stripped himself out of his expensive clothes and showed her all the red lines he collected serving the Dark Lord, and on the nights when the room was too dark and breathing was hard, he showed her all the damaged parts inside his head that told him he would be better off dead. She would crawl into his bed, pressing a kiss to his Dark Mark (giving him forgiveness), another on his chest (giving him love), and one at the side of his head (giving him peace), before wrapping her warm arms around him to hold him together.</p>
<p>
  <em>You can never leave me. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I can't now. I love you, Hermione.</em>
</p>
<p>It had been his plan not only for them to find peace together, but to create a life that was new and made up of the same magic that formed her. But Draco was an heir of old money, another branch on an ancient, carefully grown family tree that existed to keep order among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, upholding traditions and expanding their wealth in manners he did not get to question.</p>
<p>So she let him go.</p>
<p>It had become easier for Draco to sit in the darkness of the drawing room and remember all the reasons why he did not deserve her, but sometimes daydreams overpowered the nightmares. It was only then when he relived their secret moments behind closed doors, sharing kisses and body heat while the world outside thought the walls shook because the Head Boy and Head Girl were tearing each other to pieces.</p>
<p>It was then when he imagined her in a white dress, walking down an aisle of rose petals, her brown eyes gold in the summer sun, and he would be waiting for her under a canopy of branches, leaves, and her favorite flowers braided together to arch over them. He would then barely hear her <em>I do</em>, his silver eyes drunk and enthralled by all her warm beauty, a frown would start to settle in the place between her brows where he often left a tender kiss, but the glitter in her golden gaze would tell him <em>you're insufferable, but I love you.</em> Vows and rings would be exchanged, and he would then kiss her in front of all her loved ones and his few who believed he was capable of change.</p>
<p>Draco had seen too much of the real world to even let his daydreams think absolute perfection was something attainable; he would let himself imagine, however, that life with her would be as close to it as possible. On the bad days, she would yell, he would leave, but they would always meet under the moonlight, a reluctant but honest apology in each of their mouths dissolving into sweet, forgiving kisses that would lead them back inside their home. On the good days, she would sing, he would stay, and they would laugh all wrapped around each other, two souls always becoming one under soft, warm bedroom sheets.</p>
<p>On the almost-perfect days, he would wake up beside her, watching her slowly rouse herself from her dreams. He would trace a fingertip past the curve of her hip, all the way up to her chin, and she would open her eyes, and just like in their Hogwarts days, she would whisper—</p>
<p>"Are you all right, Draco?"</p>
<p>He watched her fade: her freckles, tan skin, and golden eyes morphing to smooth, cold porcelain and an emerald gaze. His fingers released their grip from around the coin, his hand coming out from inside his pocket to reach for the goblet of pumpkin juice one of the house-elves had made fresh for the master's breakfast. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" he asked his wife before putting his lips on the cup.</p>
<p>"You haven't said a word since Scorpius' news," said Astoria as her silver fork pulled out a plump, pink chunk of grapefruit from her assorted bowl of fresh, colorful fruit. She placed it carefully in her mouth as to not smudge her shiny red lipstick.</p>
<p>"What is there to say? He's not going to marry her."</p>
<p>Astoria stopped chewing, a sharp, blonde brow raising at him before her lips pulled into a smirk. "You underestimate our son, Draco. He would do anything for Rose Weasley. That includes marrying her without your approval."</p>
<p>"The issue isn't with <em>me</em>," Draco let out a dry laugh, a frown settling into the lines on his forehead. "The girl will want her father's approval, but he will not give it. Weasley will never allow her to marry into our family, so she will not."</p>
<p>"You underestimate Rose Weasley," Astoria then said, her smirk still perfectly in its place. "She would do anything for our son. She has proved that from the very beginning of their relationship. And that included challenging her father on his opinion of our family."</p>
<p>"She quieted his opinion, not changed it."</p>
<p>"Even if it didn't, it doesn't matter. Ronald Weasley's hatred of the Malfoys is not backed up by his family. His nephews and nieces are friends with Scorpius, Ginny Potter and I are on polite terms, Narcissa has a relationship with Teddy Lupin, and you've started a business venture with Charlie Weasley."</p>
<p>"And yet the Weasel will still not allow Scorpius to marry his—"</p>
<p>"It doesn't matter because Scorpius has <em>Hermione's</em> full support."</p>
<p>Immediate silence detonated inside the pearl and silver dining room, shaking even the white bulbs raining light over their heads. The stream of oxygen in Draco's lungs was forced to pause there, his fingers twitching over to his knife. In the same way he had clutched the gold coin in his pocket, he pressed his thumb on the sharp curve of the knife. The instant sting of his skin being slowly sliced open was not as strong as the mention of that name, but it did the trick of rooting Draco to the real world.</p>
<p>A world where he did not have her.</p>
<p>"What do you want, Astoria?" he asked, the words stirring in his chest came out low and harsh.</p>
<p>Astoria carefully settled her fork beside her intricate bowl. "Seventeen years ago we made a vow that we would always make Scorpius' happiness and well-being our first priority. We lost contact with your father until the day he died so he wouldn't poison our son the way he did you, we set aside our history so he could be friends with Al Potter, we were and continue to be terrified by his choice to start Auror Training, but accepted that he has every right to choose his future for himself, and we listened and supported his romance with Rose."</p>
<p>"I know," replied Draco in his same, cold tone, "I was there with you. We made that choice together. Have I not kept our vow all these years?"</p>
<p>"You have."</p>
<p>"Then why would you think I'd interfere in our son's life now?"</p>
<p>"You know why," said Astoria just as cool, just as detached as it was accustomed in these Pureblood women bred since childhood to be proper housewives to Pureblood men with fortunes bigger than theirs. "It's different. She would be your family now, but she still wouldn't belong to you."</p>
<p>Draco appreciated that Astoria did not say the name this time around, but it still formed in his mouth, a constant prayer, chant, mediation he whispered to himself every day for twenty years and counting. Her determination, bravery, and love forced him out of bed—forced him to live a life without her, with only residues of what she had left imprinted on his skin during forbidden, lost, secret moments in their youth.</p>
<p>Astoria took her fork back into her right hand, slender, white fingers gripping its neck as she gracefully plunged the picks into a vibrant raspberry. "And that's a pain unlike any other, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"Like having your father chose suitors for you at random and you ending up with me while your sister is married off to the man you love?"</p>
<p>Astoria's green eyes never strayed from her bowl of fruit when she said, "Yes. <em>That</em> pain."</p>
<p>Wanting to no longer pretend to be interested in his morning meal, Draco stood from his seat at the head of the table. Astoria did the opposite; she chewed on her fruit with a rigid jaw, refusing to look up at her husband so he could not see the thunderstorm brewing inside of her.</p>
<p>Draco patted his pocket, assuring himself that the coin was there. He stepped out from the chair but paused mid-step. His hands started clenching into fists, the reflex to resist emotions was starting to take over, to make him cruel and distant, but he took a deep breath, turning to Astoria. "Do you remember my other vow?" He knew she was not going to respond when she was trying to swallow down a heartbreak that continued to span decades. "After Nott married your sister, I took you far away. I promised you if you ever needed to go, all you had to do was tell me and we would go. That vow will always stand, Tori."</p>
<p>Astoria lowered her head, letting her sleek, blonde hair become a curtain between them.</p>
<p>While Nott wished her away by refusing to look in her direction, Astoria ached for him in her silence, loving him in all the things she could never say again.</p>
<p>Draco understood; after all, he loved Hermione Granger the same way, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>X</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What are you doing here, Zabini?"</p>
<p>"Draco, it's not what—"</p>
<p>"Listen, Greengrass," Draco started with a drawl, cutting off the flustered blonde maneuvering himself from beneath Blaise Zabini, cheeks burning red as the latter's pulled up in an entertained smirk, "I don't care. I needed the McLaggen Manufacture buyout file on my desk an hour ago. I don't care who's cousin you are, all right? <em>I</em> pay you. Next time I have to come down here, you'll be under Zabini for rent money, got it?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir. Understood, Mr. Malfoy, sir. It won't happen again," said the assistant, nodding obediently as he fixed his button-up. "I'll go retrieve the file now."</p>
<p>Zabini slowly turned to fully face Draco, his smirk still perfectly intact. "What? I got lost."</p>
<p>"Funny," Draco said, silver eyes narrowing at his old friend, "it seems to happen every time you come here. Shall I tattoo a map on your good arm to avoid this again? Or better yet, stop coming to my building, Zabini. I'm working."</p>
<p>A scoff echoed between the two when Zabini said, "First of all, I didn't come to see <em>you</em>—"</p>
<p>"Clearly. Didn't Astoria warn you against shagging her cousin?"</p>
<p>"I wouldn't say warned, mate. She made a suggestion."</p>
<p>"He's twenty-four, Zabini."</p>
<p>"So?"</p>
<p>"You're almost forty."</p>
<p>"Age is a state of mind, Malfoy," scoffed Zabini again. "Besides, look at this face. My genetics don't know anything about wrinkles. The same can't be said for yours, of course."</p>
<p>Draco felt his magic radiate out of him; it shoved Zabini back against the wall, his head making a particularly loud sound that did not lessen the latter's amusement. Instead, Zabini gracefully maneuvered himself back to his previous pose, rubbing the back of his head with another laugh.</p>
<p>"Nott owled this morning," Zabini then said, following Draco as he made his way back to the lift that had brought him down to the lower level of Virgo Labs (a merger between Malfoy Industries and Nott Corps to study, create, and provide medical cures). "He said to bring over that Mezcal I got from my last Mexican vacation on account that you'd be losing your shit right about now. You don't look more of a twat than usual, though."</p>
<p>Draco thought of forcing Zabini out of the lift, but knew his friend was now curious enough to be persistent on staying within the building—and once Zabini was invested in something, there was no removing him from the situation.</p>
<p>"Scorpius brought Rose to Malfoy Manor last night to tell us—."</p>
<p>"She's pregnant. Fuck sakes. Did they not teach them about contraceptives at Hogwarts? You, with the pink hair, write a letter to Headmaster Longbottom and tell him Sex Education is a very important subject to teach these young—"</p>
<p>"She's not pregnant, you fucking idiot," Draco hissed, pushing Zabini away from the first desk they encountered on his floor. "He's engaged."</p>
<p>"He's engaged? To the Weasley girl?" Zabini's laugh echoed, making a huddle of assistants crane their necks away from their tasks to gawk at the two. His wide grin did not waver even when Draco jammed his elbow into the side of his ribs. "Good thing ol' Lucius is dead or he'd be starting another war over his family tree being polluted by Blood Traitors."</p>
<p>Draco let out a snort, knowing well enough that Zabini painted an accurate representation of what his father would have done if he were alive to see the path Scorpius was on. It brought him peace knowing Lucius had died before his son grew up to make his own choices that greatly deviated from everything the Malfoy family believed to be absolute and right. It was going against all those backward beliefs that made Scorpius good, patient, and true.</p>
<p>His son was everything Draco never was under the influence of Lucius.</p>
<p>"So, mate, when are you going to tell him he can't marry the girl?"</p>
<p>Draco narrowed grey eyes at his friend, raising a sharp, blonde brow as they both entered his office. "I'm not."</p>
<p>"You're not?" Zabini laughed again like this piece of news was a carefully crafted joke with the punchline still yet to be delivered. When Draco sat behind his desk, no trace of upcoming amusement, Zabini immediately dropped his grin. "You're actually serious? He's <em>engaged</em> to the Weasley girl?"</p>
<p>"Yes. And her name is Rose."</p>
<p>Zabini's jaw slowly opened, red lips forming into a small 'o' as he blinked repeatedly at Draco, the news finally starting to settle in as true. "Fuck sakes, mate, the boy is seventeen. Why the hell is he thinking of marriage right now? He's just become a legal adult. Shit, <em>I'm</em> not thinking of marriage and I've been an adult."</p>
<p>Draco was in no place to tell Zabini the reason he never married and had children was because of the glaring fact that he wanted nothing more than to take the Zabini name to the grave with him. He glamorized his bachelorhood: scandalizing photographs printed in magazines, lavish parties raved and criticized about across the country, men and women fighting for his love and his money, paparazzi flying brooms to his tallest windows, journalists crowding him in public, demanding opinions on all subjects on the spectrum of news and scandals, and exotic holidays taken in almost every wonder in the world.</p>
<p>Yet, when he entered his heavily secured mansion, closing impenetrable blinds, Zabini allowed the darkness to come for him. Like Draco, he clutched every evolving sobriety chip the Ministry sent to remind himself of everything he had lost because his family gave him to the Dark Lord.</p>
<p>"We have done our job," Draco said, bringing himself back to the current moment when the memory of finding Zabini curled up in his bathroom floor, wrists slashed with the razor he had been using to shave resurfaced. "Astoria and I have parented him as best to our abilities. We taught him right from wrong, we showed him the value of his education and of hard work, we made sure he knew his position of privilege did not make him better than those who lacked, rather served as a platform to help—"</p>
<p>"But it all boils down to this," interrupted Zabini, crossing his arms as he sat on the chair across Draco, slouching into it. "Marrying a Weasley."</p>
<p>"Marrying the summer after graduating Hogwarts," corrected Draco with a snort. "Ultimately, it's his choice. And hers, too."</p>
<p>"Then Scorpius is an idiot. And so is she."</p>
<p>"They aren't—"</p>
<p>"They <em>are</em>."</p>
<p>Draco opened his palm, but it was empty; it rested over a stack of paperwork that required his signature in order to advance the legal aspect of his company's ventures. He slid the pile to the edge of his desk, searching for his gold coin, but there was only pristine, white marble beneath.</p>
<p>He did not understand: she only came to him when he clutched his evolving sobriety chip the Ministry sent not only to remind himself of everything he had lost because his family gave him to the Dark Lord, but everything he lost because he was the only Malfoy heir.</p>
<p>"Well, they aren't," her voice did not sound real, even as it carried in the distance between the door and his desk. It made Zabini turn to look behind his shoulder; Draco could see the side view of his sudden confusion when he, too, realized who it was. "Rose is brilliant. As is Scorpius, of course. They're just foolish."</p>
<p>Zabini's surprise started to melt to dark delight. "Oh, but they're <em>in love</em>, Mrs. Weasley."</p>
<p>"It's synonymous," she said, blinking away from him after he let out a loud, satisfied laugh. Her eyes searched for Draco. Even after she found him, Draco was not entirely certain he was there. "Can I have a minute, please? Alone."</p>
<p>It had to be a dream. In his current reality, Draco Malfoy was not allowed to love Hermione Granger after twenty years, let alone be in the same room with her after missing and craving her for that long, too. </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. truths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zabini had never heard even a murmur from Draco's lips of what he had assumed happened in their Seventh Year, but somehow he knew. Draco could see that as Zabini slowly peeled himself off the armchair across his desk, letting emerald eyes linger on Hermione with a smirk still tucked into the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>
  <em>Come on, mate, something's going on.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck off, Blaise.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Look, either she's bringing you back from the dead every night in order to murder you again and again, or she's shagging you. And while she is the bloody Brightest Witch of the Age and all that, she doesn't know the cure to death—hence, she's definitely shagging you, so just spill it. </em>
</p>
<p>There was once a time Draco wanted nothing more than to shout from the Astronomy Tower that he loved Hermione Granger with every cell in his body, but the secret had not been only his to tell. It had belonged to her just as much as it belonged to him—just as it eventually belonged to Astoria and even Nott. To have shared it with anyone meant revealing truths about the lives of others that were better left hidden.</p>
<p>Draco had to squeeze the gold coin in his hand a few times, inhaling and exhaling with every press to get control of his lungs again before he even mustered enough courage to look back at her.</p>
<p>Hermione looked like she did when they were seventeen—all wild, brown curls that danced around her shoulders, golden eyes bright like the summer sun, pink, uneven lips glossy and being bitten down by her top teeth, and laugh lines created by her tilting her head back, letting out music he missed every single day of his life since.</p>
<p>There were other lines starting to form around the corner of her eyes and she had a pink scar starting to turn silver at the corner of her left temple that had not been there years before, but she was still undeniably herself.</p>
<p>"You look like you," muttered Hermione, letting out a breath Draco had not registered she was holding in, too. She turned back to the door to assure herself Zabini had closed it before she decided to take a few slow steps forward. "Bit older, of course. None of us can escape that now, can we?"</p>
<p>"You haven't seen Pansy, I reckon. Claims she discovered the secret to eternal youth," Draco caught himself saying, pushing himself up from his seat. The last thing he wanted to talk to Hermione about was an ex-girlfriend, but he still added, "It's all just potions by a Japanese alchemist and plastic surgery from America."</p>
<p>She faltered when he moved from around his desk to meet her in the middle. It reminded Draco of the day after they had first kissed—she was yelling at him about breaking curfew as Head Boy, but more so for being so reckless as to walk the grounds at night, especially when a few nights prior some arseholes had cornered him after leaving the Astronomy Tower and roughed him up. There had been something about the flush of her cheeks and the wild, protective glisten in her eyes that made him cross the distance, taking her lips in his to silence her, but also to <em>feel</em> the way she had started to look at him. Her hands had gripped his elbows, holding him in place, but she later broke the kiss and told him it was a mistake. Yet, the next day after they had crawled back to their quarters, he had approached her carefully, his everything eager to hold, touch, kiss her again, but she was scared—she took a step back, her explanation as to why it would never happen again dying like the last bit of her restraint, curiosity, <em>want</em>.</p>
<p>This time it wouldn't end with a kiss.</p>
<p>Draco knew that as Hermione angled her body away, clearing her throat as she looked around his office, her hands balling into fists. "So, this is Virgo Labs." He wanted her to linger on the name, his homage to her, but she was quick to add, "Impressive work you are doing here, Draco. Clean, sustainable, ethical work. When Charlie told us what you two would be working on—all the activists, indigenous tribes, Naturalists, and Healers you were seeking to better what you produce here, I was blown away. You're doing what you wanted—you're changing the world for the better."</p>
<p>"I had a promise to keep, didn't I?" he said despite knowing he was better off keeping the words at the pit of his stomach. Slowly, she turned back to him; her pink mouth did not part to tell him she recalled this memory, too, but there was something in her eyes that said <em>I know, I remember. </em>It had been decades since Draco had spoken her language, but he had not lost the skill to decipher Hermione. Despite that, he added, "The Ministry was expecting me to put my old Pureblood money to good use. Who was I then to disappoint those in control of my freedom?"</p>
<p>"I would've never let them send you to Azkaban," Hermione muttered, turning away from him again, this time walking slowly to the right side of his office. Draco watched her survey the pictures on the wall—they were all of Scorpius through the years, shaking hands with Virgo Labs' partners (one even with Charlie Weasley and his pet dragon), deep in the forest where they sourced certain plants with the permission of the native inhabitants, or with the Muggle Prime Minister and her other officials, strengthening bonds of trade between two worlds.</p>
<p>Draco could see the corner of Hermione's mouth pull up in a smile as she lingered on a thirteen year-old Scorpius and Albus Potter shaking hands as captains of their respective peewee quidditch teams for a charity game held for St. Mungo's.</p>
<p>"<em>Hermione</em>—" he paused, letting his tongue savor the name he only murmured in the silence inside his head. It tasted like a prayer; it tasted like a promise he was not able to keep because Fate had always been intent on his misfortune.</p>
<p>"How's Astoria?" she asked before the tone of his voice settled in these walls the way it once did in their personal, secret haven of the Head dormitories. "I heard about her mother passing."</p>
<p>"Last year," Draco said, clearing his throat. "She's better now."</p>
<p>"Grief is a curious thing, isn't it? It never really leaves. But I'm glad to hear—"</p>
<p>"Hermione," he said her name in another way that was familiar to his mouth, too. On the verge of frustration. It made her smile a little wider until he continued with, "Why are you here? To talk about my wife? Because it's been twenty years—the last thing I want to talk about is anything or anyone that isn't you."</p>
<p>She started turning away from him again, but Draco reached for her wrist to keep her in place. The contact of their flesh after years of it being only a treasured curse sent out a spark of magic; it rattled the picture frames on his wall and made the lights flicker.</p>
<p>He had to squeeze the gold coin in his left hand to remind himself that this was real: Hermione was really in front of him, her hand now in his, both struggling to feed their lungs as all the oxygen in the room disappeared the more he reeled her into his space.</p>
<p>Draco almost laughed when she found the strength to detach herself from his arms.</p>
<p>"You know why I'm here," she said after taking in a deep inhale, walking past him and straight to his desk. There was a paperweight holding down a stack of loose documents that needed sorting at the upper right corner—it was a chunk of glass carved into an otter. Everyone got a chuckle at the unnecessary, random object in Draco's otherwise pristine office, but now Hermione was staring at it like something that had been taken from her. "They can't get married, Draco."</p>
<p>He watched as she picked up the paperweight, turning it to further study every ridge of it. It reminded him of Goyle the night before, inspecting their twenty-year sobriety chip in hopes that it would reveal more than what it was meant to represent.</p>
<p>"They're seventeen, Hermione, I'm not thrilled about it, either. Believe me. But they're also adults. If it's something they want, it's going to happen regardless of what we think."</p>
<p>"They want it right now because they're in love, because leaving Hogwarts is terrifying after seven years of routine, but life—<em>real life</em>—isn't what they think it is."</p>
<p>She set the otter back down on the stack of documents, finally deciding to look back at him. Draco had a lot of versions of her living in his head, tucked away in the darkest, most cherished parts that belonged only to him, but he did not have this one. It was fear—not like what Bellatrix had put her through, or when she worried after someone's well-being, but it reminded him of how Astoria had once looked at Nott.</p>
<p>Like she had finally lost him; their story always destined to end in tragedy.</p>
<p>"And we know that better than anyone else, don't we?"</p>
<p>"We do," Draco agreed, low and certain, "but, if given the chance, I would've married the woman I loved the moment I left school, too."</p>
<p>When they were young and Draco despised Hermione over the one thing she could not control, he never thought her brave. Yes, even he knew she was brilliant, but her eyes always pooled with tears, revealing weaknesses that he never understood. It wasn't until he had lost the last shred of his innocence by watching Bellatrix take hers that Draco understood that being vulnerable took courage.</p>
<p>And Hermione was never afraid to feel.</p>
<p>Naturally, when the light cascading down from the office's ceiling highlighted the glisten in her brown eyes, Draco was not surprised by it, but he was taken aback at what it revealed.</p>
<p>"You love me still," he whispered, sounding out every word with the same certainty he had been using. "Do you remember that day when you ended it? I told you I would never stop loving you. I <em>vowed</em> it. I have broken a lot of promises in my lifetime, Hermione, but this has not been one of them."</p>
<p>She let out a breath. "This is different, Draco. They're not doomed."</p>
<p>"And we were?"</p>
<p>
  <em>Toujours pur.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sanctimonia vincet semper. </em>
</p>
<p>"You know we were." Draco could not help the smile tug at the corner of his mouth when she let out a small laugh, probably shaking her head at the same memories that were always playing at the back of his. "Even if they are not, Draco, they would be making a mistake. I don't want my daughter regretting not living out her youth before settling down."</p>
<p>"Is Scorpius going to prevent her from doing so? Because I've raised him to be his own person and let others be their own."</p>
<p>"You're not understanding me," Hermione hissed, no more haunted humor etched in the lines of her face. She stalked toward him; for a moment Draco wondered if she was going to smack him the way she did their Third Year. The same frustration was definitely behind her eyes, a second from spilling out. "The problem is not your son. The problem is <em>time</em>. And I'm saying this for Scorpius' sake, too: they should not marry without having experienced life outside a routine they've had since they were eleven. They need time to grow—time to assure themselves they want to grow old together."</p>
<p>Hermione was not wrong—she hardly ever was, was she? Draco knew just as well that seventeen was too young for anyone to marry. Of course, for generations, the Malfoys had been groomed for marriage since infancy so by the time they were seventeen they would go into their betrothals knowing exactly what their roles were. Despite his and Astoria's union being based on an old business deal between their fathers, Draco knew the tradition would end with him. Neither he or Astoria were going to tell Scorpius who and when to marry.</p>
<p>They wanted their son to have an opportunity they never had: <em>to do it for love. </em></p>
<p>"I could never tell Scorpius to leave Rose, you know that right? Not just because it would be impossible, but I would never do to him what my father did to me."</p>
<p>Her top teeth sunk into her plump bottom lip, brown eyes glistening again. The hurt was tainted in guilt, Draco knew. After all, Hermione had made the final choice.</p>
<p><em>I'm not doing it,</em> he had screamed, his throat raw and silver eyes red like the blood he wanted to spill, <em>I'm not marrying her! I love you—!</em></p>
<p><em>That doesn't matter,</em> Hermione had not shouted, but the defeat in her whisper was louder than anything, <em>it never really did, did it?</em></p>
<p><em>Please, Hermione,</em> Draco had then knelt in front of her, taking her shaking hands folded in her lap, <em>please don't give up on this.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>I have to—we have to. It's the only way I can be sure Astoria will be okay.</em>
</p>
<p>Draco almost let the gold coin in his left hand slip when she reached out for him. In his head, he wanted to appear more poised, smooth, unshakeable, but in the reality reflected back in her gaze, Draco saw himself chase her touch. He pressed his jaw into her palm, holding in his breath as she carefully crossed the distance.</p>
<p>"I would never ask that."</p>
<p>"Then what are you asking, Hermione?"</p>
<p>Her tears finally fell past her lashes, clinging on to her cheeks before diving toward their demise. Draco was going to wipe them away, but the reflex was thwarted when she threw her arms around his neck, pushing herself into him.</p>
<p>He clung on, too; every atom of his body coming back to life after twenty years of being dormant, after twenty years of not having her.</p>
<p>She smelled the way she used to—all warm sunshine with hints of the roses he often stole from the greenhouses to leave on her bedside.</p>
<p>Draco never wanted the moment to end, but the coin in his grip reminded him of his reality. In it, he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Weasley. The world did not stop because they melted into each other, sparking life back into their bloodstream.</p>
<p>"Mr. Malfoy, I found the file for the McLaggen Manufacture—"</p>
<p>"'Mione?"</p>
<p>The moment the door of Draco's office had opened, Hermione had maneuvered herself away from him quickly enough to not cause chaos at the action. Still, at the sound of her brother-in-law's voice, she still put more distance between herself and Draco.</p>
<p>"What are you doing here?" asked Charlie, his scarred, left brow quirking up. "You're not here to murder Draco, are you? While I believe you can absolutely pull it off, think of the paperwork you'd have Percy and Harry do."</p>
<p>Draco rolled his eyes at Charlie as he snatched the file from his assistant. "Just remember who is financing your newest dragon sanctuary, Weasley."</p>
<p>"I was actually looking for you," Hermione said to Charlie as the latter laughed at Draco, clearing her throat and patting her cheeks dry. "And I thought since I was coming to Virgo Labs, I mind as well have the unavoidable conversation with Malfoy about what our children are up to."</p>
<p>"My niece and Scorpius are getting married," Charlie told the assistant, nudging him once in the ribs. "Which will somehow make even us family, eh, Greengrass? You are like a cousin once removed or something, no?"</p>
<p>Before Draco's assistant could start extending congratulations out to Hermione, he interrupted with, "Well, I got a company to steal from Cormac Mclaggen. I gave you an office, Weasley, so go use it. And you, Greengrass, let Nott know we have a meeting with the board in an hour. He should definitely not smell like alcohol by then."</p>
<p>"Come on, then, 'Mione," Charlie threw an arm around his sister-in-law's shoulder, gearing her toward the door. "Is this about my book signing at Flourish and Blotts? Or are you finally here for that tour? I did tell you ages ago that Draco started a research wing for house-elf maladies."</p>
<p>Draco did not expect Hermione to cast one last fleeting look at him as she was being led out of his office. He understood the choice not to, after all.</p>
<p>It still hurt to watch her leave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>X</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was not uncommon knowledge that Scorpius could not stand James Potter on any good day, let alone the bad ones. While the rest of Hogwarts had thought him too cool (with a sprinkle of annoying when his schemes went too far), Scorpius knew him to be as Al had warned: a complete fucking prat. Of course, throughout all the years until his own graduation, James had lived up to every bit of that reputation. It was only natural that he would carry that tradition even on the occasions Scorpius and he crossed paths.</p>
<p>"Don't be an arsehole, James," Rose hissed, shoving her cousin with a hard elbow to the ribs as the latter tried to push through the group sorting through donation and storage boxes. "Hit him one more time and you won't see my curse coming."</p>
<p>James snorted at her as he magicked the lid off another butterbeer bottle he had left in the furthest crook of the Potters' living room. "It was just a love tap. Wasn't it, mate?"</p>
<p>Scorpius narrowed silver eyes at him, making all the amber liquid in the bottle evaporate with a whispered spell.</p>
<p>"Oi!"</p>
<p>"Just fight him," Al told his best friend as he sealed another box labeled <b>Al's Seventh Year Stuff. DON'T TOUCH, JAMES!</b>. "Without wands. You can take him, Scor."</p>
<p>"He definitely can't," said Darcy Nott, opening a dusty photo album as she sat on Freddie's lap. "I love you, cousin, but I had to beat up Cal McLaggen Third Year for you when she locked you and Al in that cage with the skrewts."</p>
<p>Scorpius was waiting for Rose to hand over a title-less book Mrs. Potter had specifically mentioned needed to be donated and not kept, saying, "We were thirteen, Darce. Scrawny. Never seen a day of quidditch training in my life. I've bulked up since then, no?"</p>
<p>"Define bulked?"</p>
<p>"Wait. McLaggen? As in Calliope McLaggen? She was a First Year then," laughed Lily, cutting across Hugo as the latter disregarded one old book for another. "Merlin, how the hell did you and Al get through Hogwarts without visiting the Hospital Wing every day?"</p>
<p>"By having us, of course," Freddie said, motioning for James to send over a butterbeer in his direction. "Do you think any of you have made it this far without any incidents because people actually liked you? Wrong, lads. Very wrong. You lot are all a bunch of tossers and James, Louis, and I scared all of the castle's local twats into behaving or we'd make their lives hell."</p>
<p>James took a big swing from his butterbeer before smirking at his audience. "Freds speaks the truth. I mean, a Slytherin Potter and a Malfoy heir? Best friends no less? You two really think no arsehole was waiting to tear the mickey out of you for that?"</p>
<p>Al turned to Scorpius, horror in his green eyes. "Does that mean Joseph Flint backed off because my brother threatened him? Fuck sakes! I talked so much shit about him being scared of us."</p>
<p>"Explains why he was always laughing whenever we came around," Scorpius finished, a frown settling between his blonde brows. He really did not want to owe James Potter anything—let alone a decent run at Hogwarts.</p>
<p>"Oh," said Mrs. Potter (<em>we get it, kid, you have manners. Noted. But you can call me Ginny; I promise the world won't implode if you do</em>), stopping mid-laugh as she entered her living room. The pink in her cheeks slowly started fading as Mr. Potter (<em>you must definitely call my husband Harry, little Malfoy. It'll give your dad a heart attack</em>) pulled his arms from around her waist and his mouth from the crook of her neck. "Look, darling, our adult children and their adult friends hiding in our house. Perfect."</p>
<p>Al grimaced at his parents' intimate proximity, but it was Lily who said, "Gross, Mum. Can't you and Dad get a room at the Leaky Cauldron like all the other parents on their anniversary?"</p>
<p>"Not when this is my house," said Ginny. "Keywords being: <em>my house.</em> You lot just happen to live here."</p>
<p>"I'm fifteen," Lily reminded. "Legally, I'm supposed to be here."</p>
<p>"And I still have a month until I'm seventeen," chimed Al.</p>
<p>Ginny scoffed at her younger children before turning furrowed brows at James. He looked up from opening up his fifth butterbeer. "What's your excuse?"</p>
<p>"You love me?"</p>
<p>"At least give her something believable," laughed Hugo as he stretched out on the floor, nonchalantly turning the page of the dusty book he had settled on. "Aunt Ginny has been looking to get rid of you since you started walking and causing mayhem—or need you be reminded of the time you were three and somehow managed to get all the town's goats to revolt?"</p>
<p>James grinned after taking a sip out of the copper bottle. "You call that mayhem? That's ingenious for a baby. It foretold all of my successes after that."</p>
<p>"How many years of marriage are you celebrating?" Darcy asked the Potters, quick to interrupt before James went on another long retelling of his journey as one of Hogwarts' best pranksters. Scorpius was thankful for it, but by the way Freddie smirked, eager to chime in about his own contributions for all the headaches they gave Headmistress McGonagall before she retired and handed the torch to Headmaster Longbottom, he knew Darcy was doing it for her own sake, too.</p>
<p>With a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder, Harry proudly said, "Sixteen."</p>
<p>"Would've been twenty, but Mum didn't think it was a good idea to marry just after graduating Hogwarts." James turned his dark, brown eyes full of mirth to Scorpius and Rose. He was grinning, raising his butterbeer at them. "But cheers to you two."</p>
<p>Throughout the years, Scorpius had grown accustomed to the spouts of silence that often settled amongst the Weasley/Potter family; it was mostly due to someone about to meet the wrath of the women or the seconds it took to process a prank pulled by George Weasley and his disciples before all hell broke loose. This time it was different: it matched the deafening quiet that had taken over the Burrow when Rose had announced their engagement to her family. It was thick—Scorpius could feel it pushing him down further into his seat, forcing him deep into the cushion of the armchair, telling him to disappear into the springs and wood so he did not have to endure the cringe-worthy outrage growing among the stunned relatives.</p>
<p>Ginny shook her head, letting out a sigh. "Lily, if you please—"</p>
<p>"Ow!"</p>
<p>Ginny did not have to finish her request before her daughter pulled herself from the floor to smack James behind the head. He dropped his bottle on his lap, letting out a would-be curse that instantly disappeared when he saw the warning glint in his mother's eye.</p>
<p>"Thanks, Aunt Gin," Rose said, "but next time, I don't guarantee you'll have an elder son once I get done with him."</p>
<p>"It's okay. We have Teddy," offered Lily with a laugh, making James glare at her. "And for the record, Mum didn't marry Dad so soon because she wanted to star in the Holyhead Harpies. Dad did ask, though."</p>
<p>Ginny smiled up at Harry for a moment. Scorpius saw something in the exchange he had never really seen between his own parents—<em>love</em>. They did not argue or yell at each other, but Draco and Astoria Malfoy were caught in a constant cycle of neutrality that sometimes smelled bitter to Scorpius. There was never a pink blush beneath Astoria's cheeks when Draco arrived from work, nor was there ever glimmers of adoration in Draco's eyes whenever Astoria delved into an in-depth conversation about something she loved. Yes, Scorpius had seen them share a look of pride whenever he did something great or kind, but that's how far their intimacy went.</p>
<p>Looking at Mr. and Mrs. Potter stand so close, their affection radiating out of one another to ignite small, golden sparks over their heads, Scorpius knew deep in his bones that the reason why his parents did not look as the Potters did was because they weren't in love.</p>
<p>They had never been in love—arranged marriages were never built out of such things.</p>
<p>"Are you two really going to spend your anniversary taking donation boxes to the orphanage?" asked Lily. "Okay. Wait. I just heard myself. That sounded horrible. All right, parents, please be do-gooders and take the boxes we already have finished."</p>
<p>"Lily's right, Mum," Al said with a smile. "We'll take the remaining boxes tomorrow so you two can at least grab dinner at a nice place."</p>
<p>"Oh! I'll owl Gypsy. She said she would be at the restaurant with her Mum today."</p>
<p>James made a face at the way his sister smiled at the name. "So you are dating Goyle, then?"</p>
<p>"Is that any of your business?" demanded Lily.</p>
<p>"Gypsy's nice," said Harry to his daughter, matching her smile that James was threatening to make disappear. "We like her. And we'd be honored to dine at the Goyles' restaurant. Wouldn't we, Gin?"</p>
<p>Lily's grin grew, making her emerald eyes sparkle brighter at the easy acceptance her parents offered her.</p>
<p>It made something in Scorpius' chest burn.</p>
<p>Darcy buried her face in the crook of Freddie's neck and Scorpius understood what it was.</p>
<p>While it could be agreed that Uncle Theo thought Darcy to be too precious for a Weasley, it could also be argued that he felt the <em>whole universe</em> was undeserving of setting eyes upon his only child. Ultimately, however, regardless of what Aunt Daphne thought and how many jokes he made judging her choice, Uncle Theo would always stand behind whatever made Darcy happy—and that included loving Fred Weasley II.</p>
<p>It was different with Rose and him. Salazar, they both knew that during all the years they tipped-toed around their sexual tension and undeniable chemistry; it was the reason why it took him until their Sixth Year to just reel her in and steal a kiss from her bright, cherry lips (granted, he had also done it to stop her yelling when she found out he and Al ruined her Hogsmeade date with a Hufflepuff). Once Rose's fingers had snaked through his blonde hair and she flushed her body against his with no intention of ever letting go, they knew there was no going back to pretending like they were not absolutely mad for each other. Of course, they knew chaos was coming, but they were also absolutely certain they would defy the world for each other.</p>
<p><em>You two are insane,</em> James had told them when they entered the Great Hall with clasped hands. <em>Do you realize the uproar you're going to cause? Uncle Ron won't stand for it.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Dad doesn't get a say on who I date. </em>
</p>
<p><em>Count yourself lucky that you'll have Aunt Hermione's support then, </em>Lily had chimed in, too, <em>because that's the only way you're going to get your dad off your back. You know he hates the Malfoys.</em></p>
<p>Although Al continuously reassured him that the Weasley/Potter clan did not detest his family, Scorpius always felt at ease knowing Mrs. Wealsey (<em>please, call me Hermione. There's only one Mrs. Weasley and that's my mother-in-law</em>) liked him even before he started dating Rose. Right behind Ginny Potter, Hermione made Scorpius feel welcomed and appreciated, sending him an occasional letter asking after his well-being and his classes, or sending him a Christmas present every year, and always setting an extra dinner plate over the summer holidays in case he decided to Floo in.</p>
<p>As such, when he said yes to Rose's proposition of them getting married, Scorpius thought the one person standing in their corner would be Hermione.</p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p><em>No? </em>Rose had repeated at her mother's reaction, breaking the silence amongst the gathered, gaping family. <em>No, I can't marry Scor?</em></p>
<p><em>You're seventeen, Rose. You're not marrying </em>anyone.</p>
<p>
  <em>That's not your decision to make, Mum. It was mine—and I want to marry Scor. </em>
</p>
<p><em>Marry him, then—five, ten years from now. After you two have lived and experienced adulthood. After you're sure </em>he's<em> who you want.</em></p>
<p>Scorpius had not inherited any of his parents' easiness to mask any feeling that ever bubbled under their skin; when he heard Hermione allude to the possibility that there might be someone better for Rose than himself, he felt like she had shoved every sharp word down his throat, forcing it into the pit of his belly.</p>
<p>"You're upset," Rose tapped her fingers gently against his jaw, bringing Scorpius back to the present. "I know you are. You're doing that thing when you're upset."</p>
<p>"What thing?"</p>
<p>"That wrinkle your nose thing," said Al, looking up from the next cardboard box he was meant to be sealing. He pulled out a snitch from inside, raising it above his head to squint at without sparing a look over at the rest. "He's my best mate. I notice things too, Rose. You're not special."</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes at her cousin while Scorpius tried to force a smile on. Rose let out a sigh, "You regret saying yes, then?"</p>
<p>"<em>No</em>," Scorpius replied instantly, his hand on her knee squeezing tight. "But neither of us can pretend like family isn't important to us."</p>
<p>"They'll come around, Scor. I know they will."</p>
<p>"What if they don't?" He angled his body in her direction, taking one of her hands into his. "I love you more than anything, you know that, everyone knows—"</p>
<p>"Yeah, because you won't shut up about it," groaned James.</p>
<p>"But I don't want to be responsible for whatever rift there might be between you and your family," Scorpius finished, ignoring James.</p>
<p>Rose looked down at their hands for a moment. Scorpius was not skilled in Legilimency, but he knew his girlfriend—<em>fiancee</em>—after years of learning her mannerisms and picking apart her thoughts. He knew she was processing his words for the weight they carried. For all the brilliance, kindness, and rationality Rose had inherited from her mother, she had also gotten every last shred of stubbornness from her father that often made her act before thinking. If she thought she was in the right, Rose would marry Scorpius with no one present other than themselves.</p>
<p>"We'll talk to them," she finally murmured, bringing their clasped hands up to her mouth. She pressed a tender kiss over his knuckles. "We should've done so before we told the whole family. I get that now. I was just so excited when you said yes, I wanted to tell everyone."</p>
<p>Scorpius had been about to place his lips on the corner of Rose's jaw when Hugo let out a loud grunt. He slammed his book closed before pulling himself up to a sitting position, turning blue eyes at the newly engaged couple. "Ro," he started, his tone terse as he tried keeping it leveled, "as smart as you are, you really are thick sometimes."</p>
<p>"Excuse me?" demanded Rose, brows furrowing at her little brother. "Don't tell me you're going to side with the rest of the family now, too? I was counting on you, Hugo."</p>
<p>"I'm not. I mean, do whatever the hell you want if it makes you happy. That's all I want for you—that's all the family wants for you and the rest of us. But you seem to be overlooking what the real issue is."</p>
<p>Rose squeezed Scorpius' hand. "Mum and Dad. I <em>know</em>, Hugo—"</p>
<p>"No, you <em>don't</em>," he hissed, red seeping beneath his cheeks. He paused for a second, exhaling out all that frustration. When he seemed in control again, Hugo said in a lower, softer tone, "Yeah, maybe Mum and Dad want you to wait years before you marry, and, yeah, maybe Dad's not thrilled about you being engaged to a Malfoy—no offense, Scorpius—but it's more than that, Rose."</p>
<p>For a brief moment, Scorpius saw a panicked look shared between Al, James, Lily, and Freddie. If it was not for Darcy looking back at him, confused, he would have thought he imagined it.</p>
<p>"All right, that's enough," Lily interrupted as she leaped to her feet, clearing her throat. She shoved her hand into the cardboard box Al was still holding and pulled out a silver disk. "We got a classic here: <em>Pride and Prejudice. </em>If we want to focus on family drama, let's at least do it on someone else's."</p>
<p>James frowned at his little sister. "Not this one again, Lils. Fuck sakes. Someone else pick another movie."</p>
<p>"We've got Cinderella," Al said, pulling out another disk.</p>
<p>"What'd you mean, Hugo?" Rose spoke past her cousins. "What's going on?"</p>
<p>"You know what, Lils, Pride and Prejudice is fine. Sod it. I get a good laugh out of Darcy fucking things up. Oh, Nott, is this who you were named after?"</p>
<p>Darcy threw Freddie's empty butterbeer bottle at James. "If you mean the richest person in the room, then yes."</p>
<p>Lily snorted. "Please, you are Bingley rich at best. The richest one here is Scorpius."</p>
<p>"<em>Hugo</em>—" Rose pressed again, louder.</p>
<p>"Ah, now that's why Rosie is marrying him. Well played, cousin," James was grinning at them again, ignoring the anger growing in her brown eyes. "For the record, Malfoy, Al would've never married you for your money."</p>
<p>"We snogged once," Al groaned, rolling his eyes. "We were excited—Slytherin had just won Ravenclaw for the quidditch cup! I also snogged Keira Krum—the coolest girl in all of Hogwarts—but no one mentions that!"</p>
<p>"I still don't believe that happened," said Freddie with a laugh. "There's no proof."</p>
<p>"But everyone saw you snog Malfoy—"</p>
<p>"Mum and Dad are getting a divorce," Hugo answered, standing now, too. The back and forth banter instantly faded. The noise was replaced by the sound of Rose's heart stopping when her brother added, "They were waiting until you finished Hogwarts to announce it, but you blindsided them with your engagement."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A refined, calculated Pureblood woman would never admit ghosts followed after her.</p>
<p>Not when every street had ghosts of their own; indistinguishable spirits of all the people and creatures who had fallen under the terror of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters so that people like Astoria Greengrass could reign supreme.</p>
<p>Astoria had known that back then just as she knew that now. Still, as she stood under the purple shade of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking up at a giant, mechanical top hat settle on the head of someone she had once known, Astoria turned to seek out these ghosts.</p>
<p>One looked like her—a young, thin girl with exhaustion bruising under her eyes. She walked down Diagon Alley, arms wrapped tightly around herself, looking down at the shattered floor to avoid the gaze of any surviving shop owner that might recognize her, that might take from her what her kind had taken from them. The thought itself had almost terrified her back in the direction where she came from, but the empty pit in her stomach that had not been filled in almost three days told her to keep going, to cross into Knockturn Alley and demand a favor in her dead father's name.</p>
<p>The ghost of that young girl had never made it to Knockturn Alley.</p>
<p>
  <em>Not sure that's a good idea, blondie. Word has it Aurors will be shutting down most of Knockturn Alley at the end of the month.</em>
</p>
<p><em>I'll try someplace else</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>How about Flourish and Blotts? I know the new owner. </em>
</p>
<p>"You always look uncomfortable here," said Darcy, tugging on the sleeve of Astoria's blazer like she did when she was a little girl, bubbling with a question she assumed only her aunt could answer. It pulled her away from a memory long buried in the back of her mind. "Mum does, too. But I guess Diagon Alley doesn't compare to Quad d'Oro in Italy, does it?"</p>
<p>Astoria laughed, putting a hand under Darcy's chin. "Quad d'Oro came long after, sweetheart. Daphne had to learn to mend her own dresses when the war was over and we lost our Greengrass fortune. Of course, it didn't help that she was banned from Madam Malkin's for switching price tags on some items."</p>
<p>"That actually explains why she had my Hogwarts robes handmade every year instead of getting them at the shop," Darcy said with a grimace. "What about you, Auntie A? Did you piss off any owners?"</p>
<p>Astoria's mirth slowly melted under the summer sun. "No," she said, green eyes turning a storming, Malfoy grey, "I used to work here."</p>
<p>"Where?" Darcy demanded. "Please tell me it was over at The Leaky Cauldron. Oh! It was Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions, wasn't it? You definitely look like the type of person who knows a proper skin regimen."</p>
<p>Astoria squeezed her niece's chin, letting out a laugh at the excitement dancing across features that were a perfect blend of Greengrass and Nott. Before she could squint and search for glimpses of Darcy's paternal side, she said, "All right, that's enough. Go get your things so we can grab lunch. I haven't all day, Darcy Ava Nott."</p>
<p>"Honestly, Aunt Tori, we were having a moment," Darcy said with a groan, but still took a few steps back to where Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stood. "And don't you lie, you love me too much not to dedicate all day to me. But just in case you are busy, I'm going to need you to clear your schedule. This lunch is going to take a while."</p>
<p>While Daphne would argue with a very sharp, judging tongue that Darcy was a mess, Astoria thought her niece to be malleable. Maybe Darcy did not always know which direction she was moving, but she did not let the wind carry her; she sprouted wings when needed, and made the best out of life wherever she ended up.</p>
<p>She was nothing like Daphne, let alone who her father had become.</p>
<p>Cold and unreadable, like a distorted shadow of someone who had once been capable of feelings that weren't stained red.</p>
<p>
  <em>I love you, Tori. You do know that, right?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I do. I know.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'd choose you in every lifetime. Never forget that. </em>
</p>
<p>After twenty years, Astoria had never forgotten. But Theodore had.</p>
<p>She knew she should head in the direction of Madam Malkin's to pick the new set of robes she had ordered for Scorpius' Auror Training Program while she waited for Darcy to say her lengthy see-you-laters to Freddie Weasley, but Astoria's feet started following a path they had once known decades ago.</p>
<p>She expected it to look new—to <em>feel</em> new, strange, lost to her, but Flourish and Blotts was as it lived in her head. Before, when Hermione Granger had first purchased it, the bookstore of their childhood had barely been standing, a fragile skeleton with withering pages as its floor before Hermione used all the magic in her repertoire to transform it into something that captured the essence of her love for books. It was still three levels of smooth, marbled floors, gold detail against the walls that matched the wide, eccentric bookcases, and stunning stained glass windows Astoria used to marvel at.</p>
<p>She caught herself about to do so, about to linger at the way ruby and emerald glass meshed together to burn bright as the sun that poured in from outside Diagon Alley, but she heard a loud: "Greenie!"</p>
<p>For a moment, Astoria thought it had fallen out of her ears, this word she absolutely loathed, but loved nonetheless. But like in a lot of memories she revisited on cold, rainy nights, Astoria found George Weasley leaning against the checkout counter, wide, toothy grin and glittering, mischievous eyes directed at her.</p>
<p>Behind the counter, with an ever-present frown settled between her brows when dealing with George, was Hermione.</p>
<p>All the air her lungs had pulled in clotted; Astoria's hands started to tremble, but she gracefully brought them in front of her, resting on top of the other before carefully locking her fingers together. In Hermione's eyes, Astoria saw herself gliding through the halls of Flourish and Blotts, an earned pride beating alongside her mending heart as she pointed customers to sections they sought, giving recommendations of her old and current favorites, debriefing associates about the new changes or accounts Hermione had secured for the shop and them—all while Theodore Nott watched from the corner, enchanting blue eyes following her with a love that could feed both of them for the rest of their days.</p>
<p>Astoria could only imagine what Hermione saw reflected in her emerald eyes.</p>
<p>"Don't call me that," said Astoria cooly, managing to find her voice after commanding her lungs to breathe. "I hate Greenie."</p>
<p>"<em>Do not,</em>" laughed George, not letting up his smirk as she dared herself to get close to the counter. "What are you doing here? Need a job again? Has Malfoy run out of money?"</p>
<p>Astoria did not miss the way Hermione's bottom lip trembled at her husband's name before reaching over and smacking George beside the head.</p>
<p>"Oi!"</p>
<p>"Don't be rude."</p>
<p>George shoved a few books in Hermione's direction. "What's rude? I asked her if she needed a job, didn't I? I'm being helpful. Need I remind you two that I've always just helped?"</p>
<p>Astoria could not help the small laugh that found its way out. It made the annoyed in-laws turn back to her, one with a charming smile and the other with a wary gaze.</p>
<p>"While I'm sure it's impossible for Malfoys to run out of their fortune—and 'Mione would be more than happy to give you your old job back if you needed it," George emphasized with a fleeting glare at his sister-in-law, "it's nice to see you. It's been a while, has it not?"</p>
<p><em>What's wrong,</em> George had pleaded, holding Astoria tight as she fell apart in his arms, an engagement ring on her finger she did not want. <em>Please, Greenie. Tell me. How can I help you?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>You can't. No one can help me now.</em>
</p>
<p>He had gently pushed her a few centimeters away from his chest, his hands going from her arms to cup her face. <em>That's not true. Something always can be done. Let me do something for you, Greenie.</em></p>
<p><em>Nothing can reverse this</em>, Astoria had sobbed, letting George see the ring.</p>
<p>"Three years ago, when the kids got in trouble for fighting some classmates," said Hermione, clearing her throat, bringing Astoria back from the last moment she had shared with George before she had quit Flourish and Blotts—before she had quit their friendship—to become Mrs. Malfoy.</p>
<p>George laughed again. "Oh, right. Scorpius punched someone to protect Rose's honor."</p>
<p>"Freddie let a pack of Hippogriffs loose," reminded Hermione with a disapproving tone.</p>
<p>"No, that was <em>Al</em>. My son was an innocent passerby—as was I in my schooldays."</p>
<p>"George, no one has ever said that about your kids. Let alone you."</p>
<p>"I resent that—"</p>
<p>"The shop looks great, Hermione," Astoria cut in, taking a couple of steps closer to them. "Just like I remember it."</p>
<p>Hermione offered her a small smile. "Takes a village to keep it upright," she said, each word careful and low. "I couldn't thank you enough for all the time you managed it when I was finishing my Seventh Year."</p>
<p>"It wasn't easy," replied Astoria, "with George bringing his experiments over here to test every other day."</p>
<p>"Which reminds me—"</p>
<p>"<em>No</em>," Hermione told him immediately. "You're not testing anything here. Hugo is hosting a book club in an hour."</p>
<p>George rolled his eyes. "We'll see. Your son has a better sense of humor than you. Besides, it's his book club, 'Mione. Why did you bring your favorites?"</p>
<p>Hermione raised her chin, putting her hands firmly on the scatter of books she had on the front counter. Behind her, Astoria could see another pile. "In case they need options for the next book they want to read."</p>
<p>"Yeah, like a bunch of teens want to read—" George paused, snatching the nearest book, "something written by Krum. Merlin's balls, Hermione, you still have this? It wasn't even that good."</p>
<p>"You didn't even read it."</p>
<p>"Yeah. And I still know it wasn't any good," George snorted, pulling himself upright from against the counter. He tossed the book over at Astoria, smirking wide again. "Greenie, as much as I loved seeing you, I'm sure you and Hermione have a lot to discuss."</p>
<p>Hermione stilled, the pink beneath her cheeks disappearing.</p>
<p>"And as much as I would love to stay to hear <em>that</em> conversation," he continued, "I left Freds and James in charge of the shop. Not that I don't trust them, but I really don't."</p>
<p>There were a lot of things Astoria carried like open wounds, and as the years had slipped her by, she learned to deal with their sting without flinching anymore, but seeing the kindness in George Weasley's eyes that had once saved her from making terrible choices made her reach out. The fingers of her left hand dipped into the underside of his palm, causing him to stop for a second.</p>
<p><em>I've missed you,</em> she wanted to say.</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm sorry for walking out of your life. </em>
</p>
<p><em>I'm sorry for not ever being able to come back</em>.</p>
<p>George nodded, catching everything as he slipped his hand out of hers. "She has a terrible taste in books," he said, "just like her Mum, but Rose is fantastic. As is Scorpius. I'm glad us Weasleys will be getting some Malfoys in the family tree. Hysterical, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"Very."</p>
<p>With one last, genuine smile, George headed toward the exit of Flourish and Blotts.</p>
<p>Astoria watched the path he had taken for a moment longer before turning back to Hermione, running a fingertip across Viktor Krum's autobiography <em>The Blood of a Seeker</em>. This copy was withering at the edges, the sheen curling into itself, but she still could see it the way it had arrived, crisp and freshly autographed inside a magicked trunk special for the owner of Flourish and Blotts. When it had first arrived, Astoria promised a nosy, jealous George she never read the dedication inside. Of course, she had lied; alike most everyone who bought Krum's book, Astoria, too, was curious as to what his relationship with Hermione Granger had truly been like. The corner of her mouth almost tilted up into a smile when she opened the old book and in the same pigmented ink as in her memory, Krum's words still read:</p>
<p>
  <b>My dearest Hermione,</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Knowing you gave me the courage to always do the right thing. Thank you for the fleeting moments that have been cemented in me forever.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Always your friend,</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Viktor. </b>
</p>
<p>Later—much, much later when all she had was time to rethink every scene of a past life she was never going to get back, Astoria thought back to Krum's message and thoroughly understood how Draco had changed because he had loved Hermione. She had that effect on almost everyone she encountered, transforming their heart or soul, or sometimes both at once.</p>
<p>Astoria included herself among those people, too.</p>
<p>"I never thanked you, did I?" Closing the book with a last, gentle stroke, Astoria blinked green eyes toward Hermione. She found the latter still chewed at the end of her pen when deep in contemplation.</p>
<p>"Was there ever really anything to thank me for?"</p>
<p>"A long list of things if memory serves me," said Astoria with another attempt of a smile pulling at the right corner of her mouth. "But I think you can guess what I'm referring to."</p>
<p>Hermione worried her pen a few more times before pulling it from between her teeth and pocketing it. She reached for Krum's book and added it to the collection she was working on. "Don't thank me for something I spent years hating Draco for."</p>
<p>"And <em>me?</em> Did you hate me, too? It was just as much my fault as it was his."</p>
<p>"No, Astoria," sighed Hermione, her eyes golden with an honesty that Astoria found to be unnerving even after all these years. "It wasn't. Neither of you could control what Lucius Malfoy was capable of doing in order to maintain his family pure."</p>
<p>Astoria did not let the shadows of her mirth completely disappear when she said, "Lucius would have killed me if Draco did not agree to leave you. Draco would have let him, too, if it hadn't been for you making the impossible choice. You were the one who gave your love up so that I could live. Admittedly, even now, I wondered if you robbed me of something by doing so."</p>
<p>Hermione blinked down to the counter where Astoria now rested her hands. By the way the brown in her gaze clouded, Astoria knew she recognized the ancient, diamond serpent that wrapped around her finger, hoisting a stunning emerald at its center for every eye to see. It was a Malfoy family heirloom; a wedding ring forged in dragon's fire passed from bride to bride.</p>
<p>It had been meant for Hermione.</p>
<p>Now it would pass on to Rose.</p>
<p>"I gave up a relationship," murmured Hermione, letting out a shaky breath before looking away from the serpent, "not the love. And while I thought nothing could ever numb the hurt that came with letting it all go, my children are worth that and more. If given the same choice, I will always make the same one. I'm sure you agree."</p>
<p>"And it's what I thank you for," said Astoria. "If you hadn't stepped aside, I would've never had Scorpius."</p>
<p>"And Rose would have never found the love of <em>her</em> life," Hermione added in her same quiet tone. "I don't believe in fate, Astoria, but I can't deny that there was something much larger than Draco and I waiting to manifest itself. Admittedly, even now, I wondered if we were always destined to be nothing more than memories I can't share with anyone else."</p>
<p>Hermione began to turn away to reach for the books stacked on the shelf behind her when Astoria reached for her wrist, holding her in place. Both looked to where Astoria's fingers slowly loosened their grip.</p>
<p>"What keeps you going," Astoria whispered now, too, "when that pain reminds you that you were only ever whole when you were with him?"</p>
<p>Neither was surprised when Hermione placed a warm, kind hand over Astoria's. For a moment, they only stared at each other, seeing flashes of the girls they had once been—young, irrevocably in love with two men they had built futures with inside their heads, foolishly believing that after such a terrible, bloody war, hope would continue to prevail and lead them to a peace none of them had ever really known.</p>
<p>"The same thing that stings after all this time," Hermione said with a low, shaky breath and with a squeeze of her fingers, "that I know what it's like to love and be loved by him."</p>
<p>"I adore my son, but I had learned to want more from life than to be a mother." Astoria tried to mask the shame on her pale features as the words slipped out of her blood-red mouth, but found herself incapable of hiding from perhaps the only other person who understood the weight she carried. "Am I horrible for thinking so?"</p>
<p>Again, Hermione pressed her fingers against Astoria's. This time, it was her turn to attempt a comforting smile. "Women are capable of more," she said, certainty raising the volume of her voice a few degrees. "We can be mothers, we can be wives, but we can be our own persons, too. Persons with talents, with dreams, with passions, with faults—persons capable of belonging to themselves <em>first</em>."</p>
<p>"You are your own person, Hermione. Since you were a little girl, that old, cruel world told you to be something you were not and you went against it. No matter how hard it got, you were above all else true to yourself. It's what inspired people to find the light." With her free hand, Astoria's gestured to Krum's autobiography amongst the pile of other old books. "I became a mother and somewhat of a wife. It was all Lucius Malfoy and my father granted me before they died. Titles they assumed I would forever be content with. Scorpius is my entire soul, Hermione, but he is his own person. I made sure of that. And Draco, well...You can't love someone that will never love you."</p>
<p>Hermione finally pulled herself free from the grip of Astoria's fingers. "Please," she breathed, gathering her cherished, yellowing friends from the counter, "I can't."</p>
<p>Astoria cleared her throat, rolling her shoulders back into a perfect, poised angle. "Right. <em>Mrs. Weasley.</em> You learned to love your husband. You don't spend every year chasing remnants of a life you sometimes think your head made up."</p>
<p>"You don't know <em>anything</em>—"</p>
<p>"Aunt Tori." Astoria watched Hermione hold her breath, containing the seething words inside of her mouth, trying to swallow them down and settle the flush of pink beneath her cheeks. With a surge of shame for antagonizing her so, Astoria turned to the sound of her niece, preparing her face for the welcoming warmth Darcy was used to from her.</p>
<p>Astoria understood karma well enough to know that meeting Theo's blue eyes across Flourish and Blotts was the consequence of overstepping with Hermione.</p>
<p>"You're not here trying to break up Scor and Rose, are you?"</p>
<p>"Darcy, sweetheart," said Hermione, no trace of her previous anger or hurt on her features as she cast a smile at the Notts. She tucked her books under her right arm, moving from behind the counter after squeezing Astoria's elbow twice, reminding her to pull herself together. "No one's trying to break them up. Give us the benefit of the doubt, would you?"</p>
<p>Although Darcy continued to hold on to the shadow of her frown, her blue eyes were bright like a cloudless, morning sky as she looked between Hermione and Astoria. "I will," she started with a long, forced sigh, "but only because I might need another excellent recommendation letter from you, Mrs. Weasley."</p>
<p>Theo's palms turned to fists before he stuffed them into the pockets of his charcoal, perfectly ironed trousers. Astoria knew better than to assume today would be different after twenty years of his cemented coping methods. He would never allow his sapphire gaze to lose itself in her. Yet, even as it stung deep in her bones how he turned his body in an angle to keep only Darcy and Hermione in his line of sight, Astoria understood.</p>
<p>After all, the last time he allowed himself to drink Astoria in, Theo had pressed her against a wall, his hands balling the expensive silk of her wedding dress.</p>
<p><em>I wanted to grow old with you,</em> he had murmured into her shoulder blade, holding her tight against him. <em>When the war was over and the Dark Lord had been defeated, all I wanted to do was leave the hole I had been hiding in to find you. </em></p>
<p><em>The war isn't over for us, </em>Astoria had whispered back a string of words to him neither wanted to be true.</p>
<p>But it had been then—it still continued to be now.</p>
<p>"What's wrong with the first one she gave you?" demanded Theo. "Are the twats down in Auror Training giving you a hard time?"</p>
<p>Hermione rolled her eyes as Darcy let out a laugh that instantly made Theo soften his glare. "No, Dad. <em>Relax</em>. Everything is fine. It's just, I did intern several summers for Hermione's publishing company and thought maybe I'd look into the Department of International Magical Cooperation, too. You know, just to have options."</p>
<p>"Darling," sighed Theo, affection brightening the lavender shades under his eyes. The only sentiments he allowed himself were those directed at his daughter. It reminded Astoria to take a deep breath and recenter. For Darcy, both were willing to hide it all. "I tried to dissuade you from joining the Auror Department—"</p>
<p>"Out of classic male overprotection, Dad. Not because I was incapable of defending myself. In fact, I was top of my Defense Against the Dark Arts classes every year. I beat every Potter and Weasley—no offense, Hermione."</p>
<p>With a laugh, Hermione shook her head. "I have to help Hugo set up the third floor. Find me later, and we can discuss when we can meet and go over your new venture, okay?"</p>
<p>Darcy smiled wide as Hermione cast a fleeting look at Astoria before disappearing into one of the aisles. "Ready for lunch?" she then asked, turning to her father and her aunt.</p>
<p>Theo pulled a hand out of his pocket to rub at his left temple. "I thought it was just you and I."</p>
<p>"<em>Dad</em>—"</p>
<p>"Darcy, it's okay, darling. I'll just see you another day."</p>
<p>"No, Auntie A," Darcy huffed, reaching for her wrist before she could take a step toward the exit. Astoria flinched the moment Darcy then turned to take Theo's hand, bringing it to rest over hers. "I need to talk to you both. It's important."</p>
<p>Astoria expected Theo to be the one to yank his hand back the moment his skin touched hers, but it was actually she who tried to free herself, her heartbeat a wicked drum's solo threatening to end in a paralyzing stop or burst out of her chest.</p>
<p>"I'm pregnant."</p>
<p>At the words that came out of Darcy's mouth, Theo finally laid eyes on Astoria, his fingers gripping hers.</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm scared of the war that's coming, Tori.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Don't be. We will be okay</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>You don't know that. </em>
</p>
<p><em>I do, Theo.</em> I know<em>. As long as we're together, we'll always be okay.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. choices</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"All right there, Scorpius?"</p>
<p>"All right. How are you, Mr. Weasley?" asked Scorpius, offering a timid smile at the redheaded man clad in thick, black leather. Charlie had a scar on his left brow that Scorpius knew came from a wild Hungarian Horntail he had tried to reel into a cage to save from poachers, but there were a few more thin, red marks across his face he did not have the last time Scorpius saw him.</p>
<p>Charlie snorted loudly. "Charlie, please. Merlin, kid. Don't get all shy on me. I'm not gonna tear your bits off because you're engaged to my niece now."</p>
<p>Scorpius couldn't help his smile withering away. "Everyone seemed rather hacked off about it. Can you blame me?"</p>
<p>Charlie stuck his hand into the mid-sized cage he had been working on getting open. Although nowhere near its full size, the Peruvian Vipertooth inside launched at Charlie's arm, sinking claws into the leather. "Come on now, Toothless," he said to the dragon, "you know the drill. Stop fighting me."</p>
<p>Toothless—who had cleverly gotten her nickname for having exactly zero viper-like teeth in its mouth, mostly because she kept fighting other dragons twice her size and because her last owner had taken to pulling them out to sell—snapped its tail across Charlie's knuckles, refusing to leave her cage.</p>
<p>"You have to bribe her, remember?" said Scorpius. "She likes steak."</p>
<p>With a reluctant huff, Charlie nodded toward the sink inside his lab. Scorpius set his wand on the metal table at the center of the room, walking over to the heaps of raw meat in white buckets. He rolled up his sleeves before reaching into one. Beside the sinks, there were a few other cages hosting smaller, younger dragons. They all were suddenly awake, squawking at Scorpius and the food in his hands.</p>
<p>"She does whatever she wants. You know that, don't you?"</p>
<p>"I'm not the one who bribes her—"</p>
<p>"<em>Rose</em>," Charlie corrected, taking the chunk of meat Scorpius was now handing to him. "Ever since she was a little girl. She's brilliant, terrifyingly so, just like 'Mione, but headstrong. The Weasley in her, I reckon. While Rose has always been the most sensible out of the lot, you know she always does what seems right to her. We hardly were hacked off because she wants to marry you. We like you, kid, don't get me wrong, but if <em>she</em> asked you for <em>your</em> hand, then we can all at least agree that Rose knows you're the one."</p>
<p>"You just don't agree it's the right time."</p>
<p>Toothless whacked her tail across Charlie's hand again, demanding another piece of meat Charlie had to shred to help her eat it. Toothless let him run a thumb over her head for a second before extending the food to her.</p>
<p>"I'd say we're more surprised than anything," said Charlie finally, looking over his shoulder to give Scorpius a grin. "We never thought Rose would be the traditional one. You know, marry, have a baby, start a home—"</p>
<p>"No one said anything about a baby!" Scorpius input at once, his pale cheeks growing pink at the incredulous insinuation. He grabbed at his robes, fingers still wet with the blood of raw meat, and said, "I've just started Auror Training! And Ro' will be attending the Healer Institute in September!"</p>
<p>Charlie was laughing now. Even Toothless squawked in a manner that made Scorpius glare at her.</p>
<p>The sound attracted the last person Scorpius wanted to see. Which is why when his father appeared at the doors of Charlie's lab, Scorpius instantly turned to the cages beside the sink. Expertly, he opened the middle one and effortlessly managed to pull out a small, glittering Antipodean Opaleye.</p>
<p>"Oi," Charlie started when he clocked in on Draco, narrowing brown eyes at him as Toothless now climbed lazily up his leather-covered arm. "You're not inspecting me again, are you? I told you, mate. It was one fire. Norbert didn't mean it."</p>
<p>"Norbert didn't start it," said Draco, stopping beside a cage nearest to him. A small Norwegian Ridgeback slept inside, unbothered by all the fuss going on all around him. There was a faint smile on Draco's face as he looked at it; Scorpius never understood what the joke was, but it seemed that his father and Charlie knew exactly what it was and were not keen on letting him in it.</p>
<p>Charlie rolled his eyes. "Fine. Louis and James are dangerous. I know. Honestly, I wasn't sure which one started it, but I contained it. Besides, you can't get mad at them, they're your future nephews-in-law."</p>
<p>Scorpius' glare did not fade. He turned it at Charlie now. As did Draco.</p>
<p>Again, Charlie laughed. "Weasleys are fun. Honest. No need to be terrified, you two. We'll welcome you right in with open arms." He clapped Draco on the shoulder, smirking as Toothless took a nip at his ear. "Cheer your boy up, mate. He thinks my family's pissed at the news still. Even though we've moved on from that now that Ron and Hermione—"</p>
<p>"Doesn't the dragon need to be outside now, Weasley?" Draco interrupted with a loud clearing of his throat. "The boys are out there. That's why I came to find you."</p>
<p>"Bollocks," sighed Charlie. "They've probably tied string around the tails of those other dragons by now. If Louis loses another eyebrow, Fleur will have my head."</p>
<p>Scorpius busied himself with Ryu, his dragon, as Charlie and Toothless hurried out the lab. As Ryu wobbled across the metal table, Scorpius turned for the sink to avoid looking at his father for a moment longer.</p>
<p>He knew Draco was not upset about the news, but he was also not exactly thrilled about it. His father had had the same reaction when at the end of Sixth Year he saw Scorpius kissing Rose goodbye as they climbed off the Hogwarts Express. He had become solemn for weeks, Scorpius' mother only offering him small, patient smiles that told him he would need to wait to talk to Draco until the latter was ready.</p>
<p><em>Are you sure, </em>he had asked over a silent dinner, looking at Scorpius from his glass of whiskey. <em>About the girl. Are you sure?</em></p>
<p><em>Yes</em>, Scorpius had told him instantly, voice firm and certain. <em>More than anything. I've loved Rose for years.</em></p>
<p>Draco had gotten up from his seat, something dark about his eyes that Scorpius often drifted back to even weeks later. He had never seen that look before; it came close to the shadows of war that often plagued him, but yet not. They never spoke about it again, but at the start of their Seventh Year, when they found themselves back at the platform, waiting to board, Draco had shaken Rose's hand, a <em>nice to properly meet you, I've heard great things</em> following that made both Rose and Scorpius break out in a grin.</p>
<p>Behind them, Hermione had watched from the sea of people.</p>
<p>"Were you afraid that our history would always be too bloody to ignore?" asked Draco, turning from Norbert to look at his son. "Is that why you think they don't want you to marry Rose?"</p>
<p>Scorpius tried to hide the grimace the idea brought forth in his head, but Draco saw the wrinkle between his brows that gave it away. He tore a piece of meat and offered it to his dragon. Truthfully, he said, "It always lingers in the back of my head. I won't lie about that."</p>
<p>"They've made you feel less, then? Weasleys and Potters."</p>
<p>"No, of course not," Scorpius said immediately. "It's just, you've never spoken too much about what happened. The history books said more."</p>
<p>"What do the books say of the Malfoys before you?"</p>
<p>"That you are all monsters." Scorpius put another slab of meat at Ryu's feet.</p>
<p>"We are."</p>
<p>Scorpius finally turned to look at him. The glint in his silver gaze reminded Draco of all the times he had set eyes on Lucius Malfoy and only felt fear. It brimmed, turning the inherited grey to an almost blue shade that sought mercy. For this, Draco had none to give.</p>
<p>Malfoys <em>were</em> monsters. They were bred by them and married to them. It kept the blood pure, but it also brought demons and sins into every generation, recycling and building. In the years before The Chosen One, the Dark Lord could assemble an army with just Malfoys. Before him, to the times of Grindelwald and all the other supremacist movements before that, the Malfoys were also in the frontlines. Murder went hand in hand with <em>Sanctimonia Vincet Semper</em>.</p>
<p>"I don't believe that," whispered Scorpius. "I know you made mistakes, Dad, but you're one of the best people I know."</p>
<p>Draco almost smiled, but he instead reached into the left pocket of his trousers. He pulled out his gold coin, lifting it up for Scorpius to get a good look at it. "The Ministry sent this last week. A reminder of what I am. <em>Death Eater</em>. Just like my father was. Just like his was, too."</p>
<p>"It's not a generational curse, Dad. It was bad parenting."</p>
<p>This time, Draco did smile.</p>
<p>"Besides, history books don't always get everything right. Harry and Hermione told me that." Like a reflex, Draco squeezed the coin, his fingers pressing it into the thicker part of his palm. Scorpius blinked down at his action and added, "I knew Grandmother lied to the Dark Lord, but you never told me you gave Harry your wand. Or that you didn't give them up when Snatchers brought them to Malfoy Manor. You <em>helped</em> in the war, Dad."</p>
<p>"No," he hissed. "That wasn't helping. Potter is rephrasing what I did. And none of it was to help him because it was the right thing to do. I did it because he wouldn't fucking die no matter how many times the Dark Lord came for him and I just wanted to go home. I didn't want to fight. I was a <em>coward</em>—"</p>
<p>"Hermione said you were brave," Scorpius told him, forcing Draco to swallow the words he had left. "She said it took courage to not live up to the Dark Mark on your arm. Maybe you didn't do it because you wanted Harry to win, but you did do it because you wanted Voldemort gone. And that was enough, Dad. It was enough for a boy forced into the wrong cause."</p>
<p><em>We are our choices</em>, <em>Malfoy</em>, Hermione had told him under the shadows of moonlight, her hands gently wiping at the blood drying down his nose. A gift from those who had not wanted him back at Hogwarts after the reconstruction. <em>And you've made a lot of bad ones, but also some right ones. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>I'm still a Death Eater, Granger. Nothing will change how they see me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You can't change the past. You're right. But how you carry yourself from here on out will tell them everything they need to know.</em>
</p>
<p>Back then, Draco refused time and time again to look at Hermione when she said he had been brave to take the Dark Mark. Brave to show up at Hogwarts for Seventh Year to finish his education. Brave to not resort to violence every time someone made a snide remark about what side he had taken in the war. Brave to want a better future for himself. Brave to let her in, to let her see all the scars he had tallied up as a prisoner in his own home, to let her see all the terror and regret he carried at all the things he had to do to survive being a prisoner in his own home.</p>
<p>Brave to let himself be loved by her when he did not think himself worthy of it.</p>
<p>To Draco, none of it had ever been about courage. Everything had always been about survival. About selfishness.</p>
<p>He would have never married Astoria if Hermione had not walked away first.</p>
<p>"I'd be more worried about our family name if I didn't know you were good, Dad," Scorpius continued as he turned back to Ryu. The tiny dragon had been done with his lunch, waiting for delicate belly scratches now. A small flame shot out from it when Scorpius complied. "I expected Mr. Weasley's reaction. Maybe because I am a Malfoy, but mostly because he still hasn't accepted that Rose isn't a little girl anymore. I just wasn't expecting Hermione to be the one against it. She married young, after all."</p>
<p>Draco pressed his coin into the ridge of his finger to stop himself from commenting.</p>
<p>"I get it now, though. She doesn't want Rose to find herself in the same place years later. A dispassionate marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?"</p>
<p>It was not just the way Scorpius' voice frayed with nervousness, but the way his silver eyes darted back to his father, demanding to be proven wrong about something Draco and Astoria thought they hid well. And Draco did want to get that idea out of his son's head, it was not his burden to bear, but he instead said, "What do you mean in the same place?"</p>
<p>"They're divorcing," Scorpius said with a grunt, not entirely surprised Draco ignored the issue under the surface of what he was saying. "Hermione was going to tell their family but Rose and I blindsided her with our engagement."</p>
<p>"What are you saying, Scorpius?" demanded Draco as he moved toward him, his hands shaking at his sides as he tried looking for any sign he was being lied to on his son's face. "Hermione left Weasley?"</p>
<p>Scorpius took a step back, blonde brows furrowing at the volume in Draco's voice. "According to Hugo, yeah. Hermione moved out a week before Rose graduated."</p>
<p>"I have to go."</p>
<p>"Dad?"</p>
<p>"Be careful in training today," Draco managed to say before his hip collided against the metal table. He paid it no mind, but moved toward the door of the lab, adding a fleeting, "I'll see you at night."</p>
<p>Draco knew his feet were moving; he had been aware of the flight of stairs he climbed, bumping into Nott's shoulder as he entered one of the other labs, but he was not entirely sure he knew where he was going. His office seemed like the logical choice, he had a Floo in there he could take, find himself lost or at the exact place he wanted to be. Or, by the very least, his office still had that bottle of mezcal Zabini had brought a few days back he could drown the voices in his head with.</p>
<p>
  <em>They're divorcing. </em>
</p>
<p>When he allowed himself to daydream about Hermione instead of growing resentful for the wash of agonizing memories caught inside his head, Draco often thought about what it would be like if she one day decided to leave Weasley. It was not always logical; they would meet at the grounds of Hogwarts, where they last were together and happy, hopeful, whole, and she would tell him they were finally home. In another twisted dream, Draco would find her at Flourish and Blotts, where they last were together and fell apart, broken, beaten, defeated, and she would be behind the counter reading yet another large book, and when she sensed him, she would look up, smile, and she would tell him they should've always stayed there, <em>together</em>.</p>
<p>But Draco had his whole life as evidence that dreams were not meant for people like him, people with their hands stained red, people with the Devil's mark on their forearm, people with more blackness in their soul than actual soul, so he accepted that Hermione would never be Granger again, let alone a Malfoy. She would stay a Weasley forever. And it would be his penance to watch her from a distance, wearing the surname like a crown glittering beneath the sun.</p>
<p>When he came to a pause, still climbing up a staircase to the top levels where the offices and exits were, Draco thought he was hallucinating those daydreams when Hermione impeded his path. He looked right into her eyes, still that lovely, heartbreaking shade of brown that haunted his every waking moment, and almost laughed. He was going to walk through, make the hallucination vanish, but she took a step down, muttering his name.</p>
<p>"You're here," Draco then said, more so to himself, to assure that he was indeed seeing her.</p>
<p>She took another step down, touching the small platform with the door marked for level three. "I...I went to your office," Hermione told him, clearing her throat as if it would dislodge her courage. "Someone said you were down at the dragons' lab."</p>
<p>
  <em>They're divorcing.</em>
</p>
<p>Draco heard Scorpius' words again, echoing. He looked behind his shoulder for a moment, as if he would see his son there. At the sight of the empty, spiraling staircase, he turned back to look at Hermione.</p>
<p>"Why are you here?"</p>
<p>Her pink mouth parted like she knew what words she wanted to say already, but at the last second, her top teeth came down to bite at her bottom lip.</p>
<p>For a moment, Draco did not think she was going to tell him the truth. He saw excuses flash across the glisten of her eyes, trying to find something solid and unchallengeable. It was the same look she had when—decades ago, a lifetime ago—she tried to come up with reasons why he should never kiss her again.</p>
<p>Like then, the lie shattered at the tip of Hermione's tongue before she could speak it out loud.</p>
<p>What followed was the truth: "I left him."</p>
<p>The daydreams, Draco thought, did not beat actually hearing the words.</p>
<p>"I filed for divorce a few weeks ago. I...wanted," she paused for a moment, catching her breath before looking at Draco again. "I thought about telling you then, but I...I just didn't want you to hear it from anybody else."</p>
<p>"Is that why you came to find me?" he murmured, taking a step forward. "Those days ago. Is that why you came? To tell me you had left him?"</p>
<p>Hermione faltered taking a step back, like she knew the distance was not going to be enough to help her breathe. "I don't know why I came," she whispered back, a tear falling down her left cheek. "I was meant to be going to the shop, but when I was apparating, I ended up at the front doors of Virgo Labs. You got in my head, Draco."</p>
<p>"You've never left mine," he told her, nothing sweet about the words that would make either of them flush pink, rather it was filled with a heartache that weighed them both down.</p>
<p>"I did love him," Hermione then said, another tear falling. "I wouldn't have married Ron if I didn't. It's just...It wasn't the kind of love that keeps people together for a lifetime."</p>
<p>A part of Draco wanted to burn at the mention of Weasley's name, but he understood her choice. If she and Draco had not found love hidden in the shadows of Hogwarts, Hermione would have ended up with Weasley either way. As a boy, Draco used to snicker and taunt the clear infatuation the Gryffindors had, but when he dove into loving her, too, Draco knew that no one loved Hermione Granger and ever stopped.</p>
<p>Weasley was the logical choice. If not, the only choice.</p>
<p>The only shot she had at being happy after Draco married Astoria.</p>
<p>"We never quite...<em>fit</em>," Hermione continued softly, regret crossing the brown in her eyes.</p>
<p>Draco had seen it before, too; when Weasley had surprised her by showing up at Hogsmeade the first weekend back to finish their Seventh Year. It had been just after Draco had first kissed Hermione and she had kissed him back. Draco and she were <em>not</em>—as they had proclaimed the moment the decision had been made—there together, sitting at the corner of the Three Broomsticks, one hand on their drinks and another under the table, fingers intertwined as they argued Head Duties.</p>
<p><em>What are you doing with him? </em>Weasley had asked soon as he had entered the pub, searching for her, Potter and his girlfriend ordering drinks, arms around each other.</p>
<p>
  <em>I—um...</em>
</p>
<p><em>C'mon</em>, Weasley had about hissed at her, but his eyes had been narrowed at Draco, hatred still fresh. One Draco returned almost more in that fragment of time, with Hermione's hand still in his out of sight. <em>Harry and Ginny are grabbing us a table.</em></p>
<p><em>I can't right now,</em> Hermione had mumbled.<em> I've got schedules to go over with Draco.</em></p>
<p>Neither Draco or Weasley had missed the way she used the Slytherin's first name.</p>
<p><em>That's not important, is it?</em> Weasley managed, his ears starting to turn red. <em>Harry and I've come to see you.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>It is important, Ronald. </em>
</p>
<p>She had made up her mind at that moment, Draco knew. About them. About Weasley and her. Thus, Hermione had made up her mind about Draco, too.</p>
<p>She had not said more on that matter, but she never got up from the table to go with Weasley. Her hand remained clasped with Draco's, but there was a shadow of something darkening her brown eyes as she watched him walk away.</p>
<p>It'd been regret. Regret that things had not stayed the same as if to spare Weasley from what changed inside Hermione's heart.</p>
<p>"The things Ron loved me for were the things that tore us apart," Hermione said, a smile trembling at the corner of her mouth. "We spent a lot of our marriage trying to change ourselves to make the other happy. We just ended up with withered versions of who we wanted to be, ultimately built on compromises rather than love."</p>
<p>Draco did not say anything immediately. He watched her; he drank her in, letting his eyes fill up to the brim at the sight of her when often they had to be closed, searching cherished, cursed memories in order to see her face.</p>
<p>"I promised you I'd try with Astoria," he found himself saying, moving in closer to her. He thought Hermione would attempt to back away again, but she stepped forward, like Draco was a magnet and she had no control over what her body did, "but we never got there. We never even tried to make it work. In part, I think it's because she had it worse. How can you mend something that breaks every time your sister asks you over for tea?"</p>
<p>"I wanted you two to be happy. I swear it."</p>
<p>When Draco reached Hermione, one hand tentatively reaching for her, waterfalls poured out onto her cheeks. He brushed away the tears with his thumbs, trying to get rid of her regret, her guilt, her heartache, too.</p>
<p>"I didn't want you to be," he told her sincerely, like the bastard he was. "I didn't want you to love Weasley more than you had loved me. I didn't want to think he could erase me because I'd be carrying you for the rest of my life. It was only fair."</p>
<p>He did not expect Hermione to laugh, but she did. It was small, more like air trying to untangle itself as it left her pink mouth, but it was accompanied by another attempt at a smile.</p>
<p>It only lived for a sliver of a second. In the next, her own hands reached out to his face; one nestled into his left cheek while the other settled along the line of his jaw.</p>
<p>"Letting you go," her voice was barely a whisper, too fragile to even be a real sound, but Draco heard it loud, "was the hardest thing I had to do. I was finally happy. I finally saw a future ahead of me not drenched in blood and...and then I had to give it up for someone else to have. It was the right choice, of course...but, for a moment, I didn't want to do the right thing anymore. I just wanted to stay with you."</p>
<p>Draco took another step forward, pulling her in. Her arms slowly went around his neck and his around her waist. A part of him told him to reach for the gold coin in his pocket, to bring him back to reality, but if having Hermione's warmth melting the ice around him was only a dream, Draco was all right with losing himself in it. He would live there, caught in her arms, caught in the brown of her eyes, caught in her breath feathering against his chin, caught in the sound waves of her heart vibrating against his own bones.</p>
<p>It could have been a second or a lifetime. Draco didn't know; but if this was where the rest of his life went, then he would look the Devil in the eye and say<em> I have loved her more than myself; my soul is hers so you cannot truly own me. </em></p>
<p>Still, Draco should have known that nothing lasts forever for people like him. When he started to bend further down, his mouth longing for hers, Hermione squeezed her eyes tight, pain flashing across her face now.</p>
<p>"I made a choice, Draco," she murmured against his lips. "To give Astoria her place. I...I can't. She's your wife."</p>
<p>Then her warmth was gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XX</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It followed him.</p>
<p>The skies were blankets of navy, grey fraying the edges, threatening to take over, but Draco left Virgo Labs without his cloak. Like if Hermione was still pressed against him, soft, warm hands on his face, on his neck, chest against his, her sweet scent still in his nostrils. Despite the promise of rain, Draco thought the sun lingered amongst the navy sky, bright orange and pinks leading his way to the nearest apparition point.</p>
<p>
  <em>I just wanted to stay with you.</em>
</p>
<p>Her words carried Draco to Malfoy Manor, echoing in his ears instead of the heavy night's wind.</p>
<p>The first time she showed up at his office, Draco told her she still loved him, but he had not been quite sure. He had seen shadows of it in her eyes, like they were seventeen again, hiding in the Head dormitories, building futures out of daydreams, but he had not been certain. His entire being was begging, making the words come out a statement, one of her beloved facts because he could not risk it being another other than true.</p>
<p>But it was.</p>
<p>It had been true then. It was true <em>now</em>.</p>
<p>"Hermione's divorcing Weasley," Draco said, looking down from the gold coin resting in his palm. He knew the weight it packed; those engraved Xs on each scale were the amount of time he had been serving his sentence to the Ministry and his surname, yet, as if for the first time, he felt the heaviness of it all. It was not just about all the wrong that he had done, but about everything he had given up and all the possibilities that could have sprouted from them.</p>
<p>He closed his fingers over the chip, shame washing away the longing he had been carrying for decades.</p>
<p>He could never forget this life had given him Scorpius.</p>
<p>Especially with Astoria sitting across from him at their dinner table.</p>
<p>"What does that mean for you?"</p>
<p>Despite their undesirable union, Draco and Astoria had built something formidable in their life together. It was not love; from the beginning, they had known that romantic affections could never grow in the dark, uninhabitable pits they learned to call hearts. It was a companionship forged out of understanding. It was respect grown from grief, despair, and regret.</p>
<p>They were <em>friends</em>.</p>
<p>When not haunted by what they took from one another, Draco knew Astoria was capable of wanting only happiness for him. It is what he saw glittering in her emerald eyes when he looked up at her.</p>
<p>"Nothing."</p>
<p>Astoria's red lips pulled into a smirk. "Are we lying to each other now?"</p>
<p>Draco slipped the coin back into the pocket of his trousers before reaching to take his glass of whiskey from the table. "What do you want me to say?"</p>
<p>"That it means everything to you. Because <em>that's</em> the truth, Draco."</p>
<p>"The only truth I know is that Hermione will always do the right thing regardless of what she truly desires. That ring on your finger is proof of that," he told her before taking a sip out of his glass.</p>
<p>Astoria raised her hand, letting the chandelier rain yellow light over the serpent wrapped around her finger. Her smirk was still in place as she twisted it one time around.</p>
<p>"How do you know this?"</p>
<p>"She told me," Draco said.</p>
<p>"Hermione went to personally inform you of her divorce and you think she doesn't love you still? Draco, you used to be smarter than this."</p>
<p>His silver eyes narrowed at her from across the table. "I didn't know. I wished it. Every single day for the past twenty years, I wished she continued to love me as I love her. Some days I was not convinced; she stayed with Weasley all this time, didn't she? And I had to hear Scorpius tell stories of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley—"</p>
<p>"And you stayed with me all this time," Astoria interjected, raising a sharp, blonde brow. "Every time we had to encounter them, I was standing right beside you. Who is to say she didn't think the same thing? That you had learned to love me after all this time?"</p>
<p>Draco finished the last bit of his whiskey before saying, "It would've been easier if I had. Neither of us can deny that, can we? We could have been happy."</p>
<p>Astoria lost her smirk at his words. He was lying to her again. Draco saw it flash loud in the green of her eyes.</p>
<p>They couldn't have been happy together.</p>
<p>Even if they had found love within their forced marriage, how could they really forget the people who had changed them? How could they forget the reason they ended up together in the first place? How could they forget that Fate did not deal cards in their favor?</p>
<p><em>I owe you an apology, </em>Draco had said long ago, <em>it's my fault our marriage contract resurfaced. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>It's not your fault. The betrothal was decided long before either of us could walk.</em>
</p>
<p><em>I was going to give up everything for her</em>, Draco had continued, voice a whisper, full of regret, <em>but my father tied me to the contract. He threatened her, but Hermione...She's never been scared of anyone, has she? It was not until he threatened </em>you<em> that she stepped back. She loves me, but she would never risk your life for it. </em></p>
<p><em>She is the best of us, </em>Astoria had whispered, too. <em>I would've let you die for Theo.</em></p>
<p>"Why is she divorcing him?" she asked instead.</p>
<p>Draco shrugged, waving his wrist so his glass could refill with amber. "Maybe she finally realized she was better than Ronald Weasley."</p>
<p>"Was he an unkind husband? Terrible father?"</p>
<p>"You know he wasn't," Draco said through gritted teeth. He stalled for a second, bringing his glass to his lips. After a tentative drink, he asked, "Is that enough to keep two people together?"</p>
<p>"It's what kept <em>us</em> together all this time."</p>
<p>Of course, Draco had known that much. It was all he could offer Astoria Greengrass when his father forced them to marry. He had known exactly the demons she was bringing into their union, just like she knew of his. In the beginning, that was all they had: <em>understanding</em>. It was the only way Astoria was going to survive watching her sister marry Theodore Nott, both also bound by ancient family traditions (business deals). It was the only way Draco was not going to fly off the rails, destroying everything in his path when the world was buzzing with Hermione and Weasley's engagement.</p>
<p>Later, when both Draco and Astoria had accepted their fates, they knew the only way they survived the life that came after was agreeing to be partners. On the same page, with the same values and beliefs, they were going to raise a child better than they ever were. And for Scorpius, they were going to better themselves individually and build a home without shadows.</p>
<p>"Why is she divorcing him?" Astoria asked again.</p>
<p>"She wants to be happy now, I suppose."</p>
<p>Despite the smile that tried to push itself at the corner of Astoria's mouth, Draco did not expect her to say, "That means you. You know that, right?"</p>
<p>Draco felt a laugh crawl up his throat to find its way out of the darkness. "Never at the expense of others."</p>
<p>"Divorce me then," Astoria said loud and certain, her thumb and index turning the snake ring on her finger again. "Be with her."</p>
<p>"<em>Tori—</em>"</p>
<p>"I love you, Draco," she hissed, silencing the next words he wanted to give her. "You have been a great friend for the last twenty years. And an even more exceptional father to our son. That is all I could have asked for in our marriage, but why should that be enough to make us die together?"</p>
<p>He did not say anything for a moment. Her words forced their way into his eardrums, fighting their way to latch on to his brain so Draco could process them for what they were, for what Astoria was granting him.</p>
<p>"I made a promise," he finally murmured, tipping the rest of his whiskey into his mouth. He let it burn on his tongue before swallowing it down. "To you and Hermione. A vow to stay with you, always."</p>
<p>"No, Draco," Astoria sighed, an exhaustion he had not seen in a while created lavender shades under her eyes. "When your father died seven years ago, you became the patriarch of the Malfoy family. You became the owner of our marriage contract. And you dissolved it, but you still chose to stay. I still chose to stay."</p>
<p>"Because it was the right choice—"</p>
<p>"Because it was the only choice," she corrected him, forcing his lips to tighten into a line. "Because living together, despite never having shared a bed, was still better than being alone. Because staying together was better than knowing we would never be with whom we actually love."</p>
<p>Draco disregarded his magic to reach for the bottle of whiskey. Before he could pour a third round into his glass, Astoria Accio'd it to her. Although she was his wife, Astoria had never been one to fret or nag over Draco's coping methods. She knew alcohol helped him do something with his hands and his mouth when all he wanted was to scream out. Yet, with a waive of her own wrist, she made the bottle vanish.</p>
<p>His hands balled into fists over the dinner table, but Draco still said, "Hermione would never ask me to leave you, Astoria. We both know that much. I made a promise to her long ago that I would stay by your side and give you a good life. I can't love you, that's true, but I won't leave you to pine for a man married to your sister."</p>
<p>"I've been doing that even while married to you," she said with a laugh that made the room cold. "If there was any possibility of being with Theo, I'd take it. I wouldn't even pack my things, Draco, I'd be running straight to him. But...But I don't get that and that's okay. It's okay because you get it, and I can want that for you. I promise."</p>
<p>"Astoria, if you need me, I won't abandon you."</p>
<p>"Why must we both be cursed to this life, Draco? We have our son, yes, and he is the best thing you and I could have created, but we are allowed to want more. We are not those terrified seventeen year-olds tied to a betrothal anymore. If Hermione loves you as ardently as you love her, then be with—"</p>
<p>"Mistress. Master." The loud, unexpected appearance of their house-elf caused Draco to whip out his wand, a shield charm already hovering ethereally over the dinner table. "Hattie is sorry, Master," squeaked the house-elf at Draco's fighting stance, "but Hattie has received a Patronus from young Miss Rose in hospital, Master. There was an accident in Auror Training. Young Master Scorpius and—"</p>
<p>"Astoria," Draco hissed, already turning from Hattie.</p>
<p>As soon as her hand was in his, both apparated straight to St. Mungo's. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. blessing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If there ever came a time when Scorpius Malfoy found himself waking up from darkness caused by a badly-timed curse, he knew it would be either terrified (furious) brown or green eyes that would greet him back to consciousness. Predictable as the situation was, of course, Scorpius was hardly surprised to see his mother hovering over him, relief flashing across her emerald gaze.</p>
<p>"Did Rose not practice defensive spells with you every single day last year?" Astoria demanded once Scorpius' eyes showed signs of cognition. "Clearly <em>not</em>," she responded before he could attempt to find his voice through the dry valley of his tongue. "What were you doing all that time, then, if you were unable to cast a proper Shield Charm?"</p>
<p>"Not how I wanted to spend time with my girlfriend in an empty classroom, that's for sure," Scorpius managed to croak out as he patted his body, checking to make sure everything was right where it needed to be.</p>
<p>Astoria did not find his response funny.</p>
<p>Scorpius did not expect her to, of course, but he had hoped that his poor attempt at giving her cheek would suffice in erasing the frown off her face. "How long was I out?" he asked instead.</p>
<p>"Two hours," said Astoria with a stern, irritated voice, like Scorpius had passed out on purpose. When he let out a hiss of pain at the cut along his jaw, she finally let go of her anger to replace it with the anguish that had been eating at her prior to his waking. "Longest two hours, if you ask me."</p>
<p>Scorpius offered an apologetic smile at his mother before he looked past her. The hospital room was empty from the pair of brown eyes he was expecting to be just as furious as Astoria had been.</p>
<p>"Where's Rose?"</p>
<p>"There was a bit of an issue," said Astoria as she helped smooth out the bedsheets around her son. "When your father and I arrived she was being escorted out of the waiting room for yelling at the Healers. They wouldn't let her see you."</p>
<p>Scorpius felt a grin stretch across his mouth. For a moment, his mother copied it, too.</p>
<p>"She might have hexed a guard. Or two."</p>
<p>"Brilliant. Dad went to get her, then?"</p>
<p>Astoria frowned again, but it was less severe than her original one. "Yes, he did. After Healer Weasley allowed us into your room and told us you were all right—well, if you can even call this all right."</p>
<p>Scorpius winced when she gestured to his ribs; it had finally dawned on him that the stabbing ache he was feeling was coming from that area.</p>
<p>"Bruises and a few broken ribs," huffed Astoria, the fear back in her emerald eyes.</p>
<p>"It was an <em>accident</em>, Mum," he told her immediately before she thought about trying to convince him to quit Auror Training. "We were training in a rigged room in the Department of Mysteries. It was our first lesson on casing an environment—you know, absorbing as much information about our surroundings as efficiently and quickly as we could. Most of us lost focus, though; we kept waiting to be cursed by one of the trainers, we didn't assume the environment itself could—<em>Wait</em>. Where's Darcy? Mum, she got hit first. I saw her before I fell."</p>
<p>"She's fine, darling. She's fine."</p>
<p>"Are you sure? Mum, you know she's—"</p>
<p>"Pregnant?"</p>
<p>Scorpius' eyes widened in a flash of panic before settling into a frown. "Of course you know. Darcy tells you everything."</p>
<p>Astoria offered him a smile. For a moment, she recalled him as a little boy with his skinny arms wrapped around her knees, sticking his tongue out at little Darcy in a fit of innocent jealousy, telling her,<em> get your own mummy, Darce. She's </em>my<em> mummy.</em></p>
<p>"Mum," Scorpius let out a groan, his face twisting up in a grimace as Astoria was now running her fingers through his hair, attempting to control the state it was in as if that would erase all evidence of the training mishap. "You'll make me look like a prat. Leave it, please."</p>
<p>Just as he was wishing for divine intervention, the door of his hospital room opened. Rose walked in, her lovely face was the only thing Scorpius wanted to see. For a sliver of a second, he knew she had felt the same. He saw the same desperation in her brown eyes he felt brewing in his chest, but then there was a fire blazing in that same gaze.</p>
<p>"You complete idiot, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy," she hissed at him. Astoria stepped aside at the blur of red that was now towering over Scorpius. "Didn't we practice protective spells all last year when you decided you wanted to be an Auror? Were you not paying attention?"</p>
<p>"I tried to. My tutor was rather attractive, you see—<em>Ow!</em>"</p>
<p>Astoria sighed, shaking her head as Rose poked Scorpius in the ribs.</p>
<p>"You scared me," Rose hissed again, barely showing any sign that she pitied the discomfort Scorpius was displaying across his bruised face. "I had no idea what hit you! Let alone what condition they brought you in. Aunt Angelina couldn't disclose any information because we're not family and—<em>why are you laughing, Scorpius?</em>"</p>
<p>Scorpius put his hands up to stop Rose from poking his aching bones again. He knew better than to push her buttons, but he had fallen in love with her fire to not watch it burn. Even if he was in danger of getting singed by her flames.</p>
<p>"Mum told me Dad had to go pry you from security."</p>
<p>"Pry," Rose repeated with a scoff. "I was angry, yes, but I'm hoping to be a Healer. I can't just lose it inside the hospital I want to work for, can I?"</p>
<p>"You call that not losing it?"</p>
<p>Rose narrowed her eyes at Scorpius, but let out a breath, trying to push out her frustration. She sat at the edge of his bed much more attentively before looking over her shoulder at Astoria.</p>
<p>"Darcy woke up, Mrs. Malfoy. Aunt Angelina said you could go see her now."</p>
<p>Astoria smoothed out any sign of wrinkles on her expensive pantsuit before smiling. "I trust that you will remind my son about the importance of mastering nonverbal Shield Charms, Rose. As of right now, he seems to think this situation is amusing."</p>
<p>"I didn't say it was amusing—<em>I didn't</em>," Scorpius emphasized, turning silver eyes back at Rose as his mother excused herself out of his hospital room. "How can I? I got knocked out in a simple training exercise. I'll have to stun Lupin next session to redeem myself."</p>
<p>With a huff, Rose took his hands. She was a lot more gentle, wincing slightly herself at the gash across his left palm. "Teddy's upset, you know. He thinks it's his fault since he asked Uncle Harry permission to take over training."</p>
<p>Scorpius raised a brow. "It's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault—"</p>
<p>"He talked to your father," Rose said. She blinked away from his hands, watching a shadow of that insecure, lonely, guilty boy she remembered from their early years at Hogwarts. Through his friendship with Albus, Scorpius had learned to vanquish most of the demons his surname carried; sometimes, however, Rose knew the remnants of those shadows often appeared to whisper in his ear.</p>
<p>More so when Teddy Lupin popped around.</p>
<p>After all, Scorpius was well aware the Malfoys were the (only) closest thing to blood-related relatives Teddy had.</p>
<p>"Where's my dad?" he asked, glancing at the door. "He's not shouting at Lupin, is he?"</p>
<p>Rose looked back at the door, too. Her brows furrowed together for a brief moment before turning back to Scorpius. "I could've sworn he was right behind me when we left security," she said before letting out a sigh. "But, no, he didn't yell at Teddy. He comforted him if anything."</p>
<p>"What'd you mean?"</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. "Your father knows what you signed up for. Not that he or your mother quite like it now that they've got an actual taste of the terror it is to have a son who wants to be an Auror. Still, it was training. You have to make mistakes in order to strengthen your reflexes and skills."</p>
<p>"So, I'm not an idiot then?"</p>
<p>"Of course you are," Rose huffed. "You should've never let your guard down."</p>
<p>Scorpius laughed, a healthy pink trying to find its way from beneath the patches of purple skin on his cheeks. For a moment, she watched the mirth in his eyes transform the silver in them to a lighter shade, like pale moonlight against a midnight plum sky. The last time, it seemed, that she had seen him laugh like this was before she had asked him to marry her.</p>
<p>After that, nothing seemed to be going right for them.</p>
<p>"Do you regret saying yes?" she asked in a murmur.</p>
<p>"Do you regret asking?" Scorpius inquired in return, his laughter now completely gone at her sad, glistening eyes.</p>
<p>Rose gently let a fingertip trace down his cheek, avoiding the gash still wet with murtlap essence before running it across his bottom lip. "Of course not," she whispered, sincerity in each word. "Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of the only one for me, Malfoy."</p>
<p>"Then?"</p>
<p>She let out a shaky breath. "It just...It just got overwhelming. Like I put you in a position you didn't want to be—"</p>
<p>"There will never be a timeline where I don't choose to be with you," he interrupted. "You know that, right?"</p>
<p>"I suppose."</p>
<p>Scorpius let out a quiet laugh, reaching for her hand resting against his chin. He brought it back up to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss over her knuckles. "Then let's get married," he said over her flesh. "Right now. Tomorrow. A month or five years from now. It doesn't matter, Ro. It doesn't matter if there is a white dress, rings, and a legal contract, or if it's just a promise we whisper to each other every single day that only belongs to us. If you want me forever, you've got me forever."</p>
<p>Those brown eyes brimmed with tears. In true Rose Weasley fashion, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in, and her arms wrapped around him as best she could.</p>
<p>His ribcage protested the strain, but in true Scorpius Malfoy fashion, he disregarded the entire world just to be able to hold her.</p>
<p>This was his favorite place; caught in everything that was her. He had not known what the feeling was called all those years ago, back when he first felt it flutter in his chest, like a bird escaping from inside his ribcage to thunder wings around his heart when he first spotted Rose at the sorting, her eyes somehow finding his among the sea of students.</p>
<p>Scorpius just knew that one day he would find himself here: her name the only prayer he would ever know and her mouth the only religion he would ever kneel down for.</p>
<p>Maybe that was why he had first avoided Rose. It had not only been due to the gruesome history that tangled their families in a complex web, rather Destiny kept knocking on his door, telling Scorpius to come out of the Slytherin dungeon and face what he felt like there was a promise of returned affection and clarity.</p>
<p>Rejection, hatred, indifference were all things he could face—but what if Rose felt the same? The thought was too terrifying for Scorpius to process, so he befriended her cousins, shared classes with her, even shared half-mumbled jokes with her at the expense of James Sirius Potter, but had always remained careful in staying three steps behind her, never fully aligning out of fear he might have an answer.</p>
<p><em>Malfoy fancies you</em>, Scorpius had heard Dominique Weasley tell Rose back when they were Sixth Years, back when he watched her become even more beautiful, witty, and unattainable from a safe, unbearable distance.<em> It's so obvious, it's sort of pathetic at this point.</em></p>
<p><em>He does not,</em> Rose whispered, turning to look behind her shoulder as Scorpius pretended to be giving Al advice on what Zonko's line of Howlers he should send James. <em>He hates me, actually.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>He doesn't hate you. Aren't you paying attention? Fuck sakes, Rose, I thought you were smart. What's the point of having inherited that big Aunt Hermione brain if you can't see facts? </em>
</p>
<p><em>Malfoy has spoken all but two sentences to me in the past five years. He only remembers I exist because of Al. </em>That's<em> what I know. Besides...I heard he has a thing with Gypsy Goyle.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Goyle? Merlin, you are daft. Goyle likes to snog pretty girls, not little pale, twitchy blokes who are in love with their best friend's cousin. </em>
</p>
<p><em>Shut up,</em> Rose had hissed, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink Scorpius could see even through the gathering crowd. <em>He might hear you.</em></p>
<p><em>Good. Maybe he'll do something about it. I need some sort of drama now that the whole Teddy and Victoire thing has died down. You know, I thought Ted had taste. Not that I </em>care<em>, but he deserves better than perfect </em>Vicky<em>—</em></p>
<p><em>Do you remember that Hufflepuff I told you about?</em> interjected Rose, her eyes meeting Scorpius' for a brief, wonderful, terrible moment before she blinked away, resignation lacing the next words. <em>He asked me out on a date for the next Hogsmeade trip. I think I'll say yes.</em></p>
<p>Maybe Scorpius was a coward—there were a dozen textbooks that swore the name Malfoy was a synonym to it, after all; maybe that was why he had walked up to the Zonko's counter, arms heavy with products whose fate would be to ruin Rose's date under the pretense of inter-House rivalry.</p>
<p>The rest, of course, led both right here: wrapped around each other.</p>
<p>It could have been a second or a lifetime. Scorpius didn't know; but if this was where the rest of his life went, then he would look Death in the eye and say <em>I have loved her more than myself; my soul is hers so you cannot truly own me. </em></p>
<p>Rose turned to the door of the hospital room when they heard it open, a frown between her brows at the unwanted intrusion, but it quickly converted to confusion at who the culprits were.</p>
<p>"Mum? Mr. Malfoy?"</p>
<p>"Angelina owled," Hermione said, a small, sad smile on her mouth as she looked at Scorpius and Rose. "She thought you might need me."</p>
<p>"Healer Weasley told your mother you might need to be escorted out," said Draco, clearing his throat as he, too, attempted a smile at the young couple. He did not manage it; instead, Draco grimaced, making Rose frown further.</p>
<p>Inquisitive, like the woman standing next to him, Draco could see Rose looking between them, a glimmer in her eyes telling him she was coming up with any theories or logical explanations as to what could have Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy in close proximity of one another.</p>
<p>She would never arrive at the truth, Draco knew. No one ever would.</p>
<p>"How are you feeling, Scorpius?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>Scorpius, too, was looking back and forth between his father and Hermione. He was nervous; as if every bad memory Hermione had involving Draco was going to pour out onto the floor like it was a Pensieve and make all of them relive it alongside her. Of course, Scorpius knew Hermione had not once uttered a bad word against his family, but he was also aware they never acknowledged each other throughout all the years Scorpius had known the younger members of the Weasley/Potter family.</p>
<p>"I'm fine. Honestly," Scorpius replied to her, but emphasized every word to reassure the worried silver in his father's eyes. "Just a few bumps and scrapes."</p>
<p>"And a broken ribcage—"</p>
<p>"<em>On the mend.</em> I'm sure Healer Weasley took care of it," Scorpius clarified after Draco's bitter input. "Really, I'm okay."</p>
<p>"Why are you with Mr. Malfoy?" asked Rose, standing from the corner of Scorpius' hospital bed to redirect her frown at her mother. "What'd you say to him?"</p>
<p>Hermione's smile withered. In its place was an uncertainty Rose was unfamiliar with. After all, she had grown up hearing, reading, studying all about her mother's victories and accomplishments because her incomparable mind was always ruled by a conviction unlike any other.</p>
<p>"Did you come here to tell Mr. Malfoy we were too young and too stupid to get married?"</p>
<p>"Rose—"</p>
<p>"We're not stupid."</p>
<p>"I know you're not—"</p>
<p>"You think <em>I</em> am," Rose hissed, red seeping beneath freckled cheeks that was too Weasley for Draco's liking. Especially when it was a clear sign of brewing anger, one directed at Hermione. "That's why you didn't tell me about you and Dad, right?"</p>
<p>On his bed, Scorpius cringed at the accusation. His bruised hand went to reach for Rose, his face turning red, too, at the ache it was causing his bones. His fingers still wrapped around her wrist, giving her a tug as he let out a pained breath.</p>
<p>"I had to hear it from Hugo, Mum."</p>
<p>"Ron and I wanted to tell you after—"</p>
<p>"When Teddy sent me that Patronus," Rose cut in, squeezing Scorpius' fingers as she took a step back, helping him rest against his hospital bed again, "all I could think about was what if I had lost Scor? What if I had waited to marry him—what if I had wasted years to be with him in a way I wanted because others did not think it convenient timing? Thing is, Mum, time's the one thing we aren't always guaranteed. <em>You</em> taught me that, remember?"</p>
<p>Hermione allowed herself to look at Draco for a moment. She let out a breath, turning back at Rose.</p>
<p>"If I had lost Scorpius," continued Rose, "I would've spent the rest of my life wishing I had more of it to live beside him. But I didn't lose him. He's here with us. And I have time right now. And I am going to marry him."</p>
<p>"Rose—"</p>
<p>"We don't need a wedding dress, rings, or a legal contract to prove anything, I know that, but it's important for us to unite our families. Because despite all the horrible things that have happened in the past, all the blood and loss, love prevailed. And I know you're scared that what happened with you and Dad will happen to me, but even if that's true, it's my right to make my own mistakes and learn—"</p>
<p>"<em>Rose</em>," Hermione interrupted a little more loudly, finally making her daughter startle herself into silence. Her neck twitched, wanting to look up at Draco again, but she kept her eyes determinedly on Rose. "You're right. I shouldn't impose my own fears and mistakes on you. You're not me. I know that. You're far better—"</p>
<p>"Mum—"</p>
<p>"<em>You are</em>," Hermione stressed with a smile attempting to settle itself against the corner of her mouth. Her brown eyes glistened, forcing the red to pale in Rose's cheeks. "And if you want to marry Scorpius today or fifty years from now, I will be happy for you. And you will have my full support."</p>
<p>"We will?" This time it was Scorpius who spoke. Something like relief and skepticism flashed across his silver eyes.</p>
<p>Hermione gave him a slow, assuring nod. Her smile widened, but the tears in her eyes were now clinging on to her lashes. "We're your parents," she whispered, "we will always want to protect you against our own mistakes...And we will always put your happiness first."</p>
<p>
  <em>Even above our own.</em>
</p>
<p>Draco heard the rest of what Hermione did not say. With a shaky breath, she looked up at him; there was a glimmer of sacrifice in her golden eyes, the same he had seen at Flourish and Blotts twenty years ago.</p>
<p>The memory came hurling at him with more force than it had in the past:</p>
<p>
  <em>I love you!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That doesn't matter. It never really did, did it? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Please, Hermione. Please don't give up on this. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I have to—we have to. </em>
</p>
<p>"Dad?"</p>
<p>Draco did not know where he got the strength to turn away from Hermione. Maybe it was no strength at all, rather terror and rage—because he would always be a coward and a selfish bastard. He could not face what Hermione's eyes were telling him.</p>
<p>Not again.</p>
<p>Not when he had finally seen a light at the end of the abyss he had been free-falling through since she had left him.</p>
<p>"Do we have your blessing, too?" asked Scorpius, both he and Rose staring at him expectantly.</p>
<p>"Always," muttered Draco.</p>
<p>Grins broke out across Rose and Scorpius. They beamed at each other, elated laughter creating a bubble of glittering happiness that wrapped around them. They lost themselves in one another and Draco closed his eyes as Hermione vanished out of the hospital room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>X</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Astoria's hands had been shaking since she arrived at St. Mungo's alongside Draco. There were a few rare occasions throughout their marriage where she sought his comfort to ease the fear and worry trying to claw its way up to the surface; she was disappointed, then, when he put distance between them the moment they touched ground, not offering a hand or a shoulder for her to steady herself upon.</p>
<p>When she looked around the waiting area of the hospital, she found blue eyes reflecting what she felt. At that moment Astoria realized Draco was letting her go to him—he was letting her go to Theodore to seek and give comfort.</p>
<p>Draco should have known better: Theodore Nott does not look his demons in the eye.</p>
<p>But Astoria would not cower away. For the past twenty years, she had never turned away from the cards Fate had dealt her. Theodore could wish her away, he could drink her away, he could curse her away, but Astoria could not let herself fade.</p>
<p>She loved Darcy too much to let a shattered heart get in the way.</p>
<p>"Hey, Greenie!"</p>
<p>Astoria was running her trembling hands up and down the front of her trousers to steady them as she neared Darcy's hospital room. She needed a moment to gather her strength before facing what was behind the door, but could not find herself disappointed when George Weasley's voice greeted her outside the hall.</p>
<p>"Lower your voice. This is a <em>hospital</em>," Angelina Weasley hissed, frowning at her husband. "Between you and Rose, my staff is going to think my family's a bunch of ill-mannered tossers."</p>
<p>George scoffed but still directed a grin at Astoria.</p>
<p>She thought about returning it, but her eyes settled on Fred Weasley II. The worry Astoria had previously been feeling resurfaced. "Did something happen, Freddie? Why aren't you in there with Darcy? Rose said she had just regained consciousness."</p>
<p>Freddie looked at his parents for a second; in the next, he was mumbling a curse when he looked at the door. George was no longer amused, either.</p>
<p>"I can't throw her out because she's a bitch," said Angelina.</p>
<p>"You <em>can</em>. You're Head Healer," George told his wife with a frown of his own.</p>
<p>"Mrs. Nott's here," Freddie informed Astoria. "Mum contacted her."</p>
<p>Angelina's nose wrinkled like she shared in her son's distaste. "I had to. It's protocol. Darcy had both her parents listed as emergency contacts."</p>
<p>"I told you, she updated them. How can her mother be a contact when she hasn't been in contact with her for over a year?"</p>
<p>"She threw Freds out," George then said, trying for a grin to give to Astoria again. She still noticed the dark shadow in his brown eyes, one she recognized as unfiltered parental protection. "Your sister's never liked him, has she? Nor was she too happy to learn Darcy's pregnant."</p>
<p>Astoria reached over, putting her hand gently on the side of Freddie's face. It was the same form of comfort she often gave Darcy when she needed it. "Daphne's never had good taste in people. If she did, she would know you are a kind, smart young man who loves her daughter very much."</p>
<p>Freddie smiled shyly, his dark cheeks flushing pink.</p>
<p>Angelina let out a sigh as she flipped over a page on her clipboard. She stared at the contents for a moment, something like a smile and a frown fighting for space across her mouth. Ever the impartial Healer, she settled on neutrality before turning the clipboard over.</p>
<p>It was a sonogram.</p>
<p>"She's about four months along," Angelina told Astoria. "Exams show Darcy cast a strong Shield Charm before the first blast hit the trainees. She has a few bruises and some mending broken bones, but the baby is safe."</p>
<p>"That girl has a habit of getting herself in trouble, doesn't she?" said George. "But she's smart enough to always get herself out of it. You could learn a thing or two from her, Freds."</p>
<p>"Dad really likes Darcy," Freddie told Astoria. "Thinks she'd make a proper Weasley."</p>
<p>"Well, I've always wanted a daughter."</p>
<p>"You already have a daughter," Angelina snapped at George, smacking him on the shoulder with her clipboard. "<em>Roxanne</em>, remember?"</p>
<p>George snorted unpleasantly, but Astoria could see the glimmer of mischief in his brown eyes that she often caught herself missing throughout the past two decades. "My little girl wants to be a librarian, Greenie. Can you believe that? Roxy's fifteen and has settled on a future as a bookworm. Where did Angelina go wrong?"</p>
<p>Freddie had started to laugh at the comment and his mother's outraged expression but instantly silenced himself when Angelina picked up her clipboard to smack George again, a threatening look in her eye that told Freddie she would use it on him, too, if he continued to find it amusing.</p>
<p>"You should go inside, Mrs. Malfoy," said Freddie as he put a few steps of distance between himself and his mother. The mirth was indeed gone from his face now, but when Astoria saw him blink in the direction of Darcy's hospital room, a frown settled on his face. "Someone should save Darcy from Mrs. Nott."</p>
<p>Astoria nodded, running her hands down her sides once more before proceeding to the door. When she entered, slowly and quietly, Theodore turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes locked on the tiled floor.</p>
<p>He knew it was her.</p>
<p>In the next second, his hands were fists and his back stiffened at her proximity. He turned his gaze back at his wife and daughter, both of who were screaming at each other.</p>
<p>"You <em>are</em>," hissed Daphne at an objection hurled at her, unmoved by the red seeping beneath Darcy's bruised cheeks, or how her swollen, blue eyes cascaded tears. "You're a foolish little girl. You know nothing about motherhood. And this is <em>your</em> fault, too!"</p>
<p>Astoria closed the door behind her. Daphne blinked at her presence, but kept her glare on Theodore. A long, thin finger was pointed at him.</p>
<p>"It's not Dad's fault—"</p>
<p>"I told you nothing good would come from her seeing that Weasley boy," Daphne continued to address her husband, ignoring Darcy. "Now look at her."</p>
<p>"It's not Freddie's fault, either! He's not even in training—"</p>
<p>"She's <em>seventeen</em>. What the hell can she possibly know about being a—"</p>
<p>"You weren't that much older when I was born!"</p>
<p>"<em>I</em> had a reason," Daphne hissed again, finally turning to her daughter. "The Notts needed an heir, so I gave them an heir. You had a purpose for being. What is the purpose of spawning a Weasley? To inherit a joke shop?"</p>
<p>When Darcy burst into a wave of uncontrollable sobbing, Theodore took a slow, dangerous step toward Daphne. "That's enough," he snarled. "Go back to wherever it is they dug you up from."</p>
<p>Daphne smacked Theodore's hand away before it reached her elbow. "I warned you that your guilty conscience was always going to overindulge her. You were always going to let her throw her life away because you had ruined your own. <em>Fix this</em>, Nott."</p>
<p>"There's nothing to fix. There's nothing wrong with Darcy."</p>
<p>Astoria stepped away from the door when Theodore reached over to Daphne again, this time managing to grip her elbow and yank her away from the hospital bed. "Sister," she called, cool and leveled, "I'll stay with Darcy so you and—"</p>
<p>"You knew she was pregnant, didn't you, Tori?" Daphne demanded as she struggled against Theodore. "<em>Didn't you?</em>"</p>
<p>Pressing her mouth into a tight line, Astoria gave a firm nod.</p>
<p>"You absolute—"</p>
<p>"Leave Aunt Tori out of this!" Darcy shouted. "I made her promise not to tell you."</p>
<p>"You're <em>not her </em>daughter—"</p>
<p>"I've never been quite yours either, have I?"</p>
<p>Silence exploded inside the small hospital room. It rang inside Astoria's eardrums louder than the noises coming from the other side of the door. Almost too often she found herself here: caught in the crossfire of an argument produced by mother and daughter. Theodore would never look at Astoria, but she could always hear what he also left unsaid,<em> this isn't how our lives were supposed to be. </em></p>
<p><em>We'll have a son</em>, he once murmured against her chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses further down, the shades of his childhood bedroom letting in summer sun,<em> duty demands it, of course. But we'll have a little girl, too.</em></p>
<p><em>Is that so? </em>Astoria had whispered, her hands running through his disheveled, dark hair.</p>
<p>
  <em>We'll call her Artemis. Or Charlotte.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Or Theodora.</em>
</p>
<p><em>That can be her second name,</em> Theodore had agreed instantly at her quip, biting the skin of her naval until Astoria let out a laugh.</p>
<p><em>Unlikely,</em> she had said, throwing a leg around the side of his hip, laughing and squirming again as he tried to sink his teeth on her flesh. <em>We'll call her Ava. Like my mother.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>You don't even like your mother, Tori. </em>
</p>
<p><em>True, but I dislike </em>Theodora<em> even more. </em></p>
<p>With a last feathering kiss to her abdomen, Theodore had climbed back over Astoria, wrapping arms around her before tucking her into his body. She adjusted her cheek over his heart, closing her eyes to the sound. She tried not to think of the war that was coming and how it could silence it forever.</p>
<p><em>She'll look like you,</em> he whispered, each word heavy with the same dread Astoria was trying to push away.<em> One day, after we've won, we'll get married. And we'll have a little girl that looks like you.</em></p>
<p>"Fine," Daphne said through her teeth, grabbing her purse from the foot of Darcy's bed. "She's all yours, Tori."</p>
<p>Astoria tried to reach for Daphne, but she slammed the door behind her, leaving the shattered pieces of her family behind. Astoria's fingers were scarred from all the times she knelt down before them, picking up every fragment and desperately trying to put them back to their original state.</p>
<p>"You should've married Auntie A," muttered Darcy, rubbing at her eyes with the bottoms of her palms. It darkened the red around her swollen eyes and smudged the tears still falling past her lashes. "You deserve better than a woman like Mum."</p>
<p>Theodore's hands turned into fists at his sides. Astoria followed the hard line of his jaw as she tried to master her own deceptiveness. Once she was certain there was no evidence of how Darcy's comment had stung her, Astoria smiled warmly, moving to her now.</p>
<p>"Daphne will come around, sweetheart. She was just surprised."</p>
<p>"No, Aunt Tori," Darcy cried. "She won't. You heard Mum; she only had me so she could secure a portion of Dad's fortune. She doesn't care about me."</p>
<p>"Don't be silly. Of course she—"</p>
<p>"You've never lied to me. Please don't start now."</p>
<p>Astoria swallowed her excuse.</p>
<p>Even if Darcy could not see it, Astoria knew Daphne cared about her. Even if she had never allowed herself to show it in affection or warm, comforting words. Daphne and Astoria had not been groomed that way. Their example of motherhood came from a woman just as cold as the expectations for a young pureblood girl; they were meant to marry men with fortunes, ensuring that their bloodlines remained as they had been for centuries by producing children of their own. Nowhere in their lessons of what a proper, pureblood wife and mother ought to be did <em>love</em> appear.</p>
<p>How could Astoria, then, hold something against Daphne she had never felt?</p>
<p>Perhaps she did take on liberties with Darcy that were not rightfully hers, but Astoria was also not responsible to teach her adult sister how to properly love her child. After all, Astoria had learned on her own: with plenty of mistakes and mishaps, she raised Scorpius with a better, happier childhood than the one she or Draco had, thus securing (<em>hoping, wishing</em>) that he grew up to be a kinder, sweeter boy who knew what it was like to be loved and love fully in return. Astoria could only want the same for Darcy—she could only show her the same devotion she showed Scorpius so she would never feel the same infuriating, cold loneliness Daphne had felt herself.</p>
<p><em>She could pass as yours,</em> Draco had once told Astoria, back when Scorpius and Darcy were growing toddlers, clinging on to each other like siblings. They watched them wrestle for a turn on Scorpius' toy broom. <em>She's got every bit of Greengrass in her that our son has. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>She belongs to Daphne.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You know well enough your sister doesn't want the girl, Tori. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Don't say that. Daphne's trying.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>At what, practicing her disappearing act? Darcy is four and Daphne lives in a different country. She already looks to you for everything that she hardly misses Daphne now. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm not her mother, Draco.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You could've been.</em>
</p>
<p>Astoria had taken a deep breath, trying to stop the stinging in her emerald eyes from becoming visible tears. In the distance, Darcy managed to knock Scorpius onto his back. <em>What am I supposed to do?</em></p>
<p><em>Love her like she is yours</em>.</p>
<p>"Don't worry about your mother, darling," Theodore finally said, clearing his throat. "You have every right to be happy. It doesn't matter if it doesn't look like how she wanted it to. This life belongs to you. So live it unapologetically."</p>
<p>Tears still fell down Darcy's cheeks. Astoria wiped them away with her thumbs.</p>
<p>"I'll go get Healer Weasley to bring you a calming draught. And I'll have Freddie come back in, okay?"</p>
<p>Theo started turning on his heels when Darcy said again, "You should've married Auntie A."</p>
<p>Maybe Astoria was unable to hide the pain this time; maybe that was why Darcy took her hands, pulling them away from her face. There was a sob still caught in Darcy's chest that was threatening to come out, but there was something like a sad, watery smile that beat it to it. It looked like something Astoria would have directed at her when Darcy needed reassurance.</p>
<p>"Fifth Year," she started, low but brave, "I snuck into Gryffindor Tower. Freds and I had a fight; some might say it was my fault, so I went to find him. I wasn't counting on Headmaster Longbottom ordering an unexpected search of the dormitories. Of course, I got caught, but it was the night before the Christmas holidays. I knew I'd be able to get to the Headmaster's owl before you or Mum. And I knew your signature would be easiest to forge, Dad. You had that seal for all your paperwork, remember? I broke into your study to look for it, but...I saw your Pensieve. You must've just left because there it was and...and I saw Aunt Tori. She was in her wedding dress."</p>
<p>
  <em>I wanted to grow old with you.</em>
</p>
<p>That was the last thing Theo had ever said to Astoria.</p>
<p>It was the last thing he said to her seconds before she was meant to walk herself down the aisle and meet Draco Malfoy at the end.</p>
<p>
  <em>I wanted to grow old with you. When the war was over and the Dark Lord had been defeated, all I wanted to do was leave the hole I had been hiding in to find you.</em>
</p>
<p>"It made sense, actually," murmured Darcy, squeezing her aunt's hands even tighter. "Aunt Tori is one of the best people in this whole world, but you've always acted like she wasn't, Dad. In all of my life, I've never seen you so much as look at her."</p>
<p>Darcy was wrong. Theodore had looked at Astoria. For the first time in over twenty years, he had set his blue eyes upon her when Darcy told them of her pregnancy. It had been for a moment—something that could have lasted just a second, or a whole lifetime, but it had happened. In his gaze, Astoria had seen the boy of her youth terrified of losing that which he loved more than the breath in his lungs.</p>
<p>"You and Aunt Tori were in love."</p>
<p>Astoria pulled herself upright. "Childhood crush," she muttered, tugging a wrist free from Darcy's clutch as her hand started shaking again. Her heart picked up its speed, too, bruising the bones around it. "I'm going to check on Scorpius—"</p>
<p>"Yes, we were."</p>
<p>The pull of oxygen Astoria had just sent to her lungs did not resurface. It got caught at the base of her throat, burning as she turned to the sound of Theodore's voice. He was not looking at her—not yet. His eyes darkened in sorrow, in self-loathing, in regret as he kept them on Darcy before he looked at Astoria.</p>
<p>He had failed them both.</p>
<p>Darcy and Astoria knew that. In their respective manners, both had wounds Theodore had inflicted because he had not always known how to endure this life.</p>
<p>"Do you love her now?"</p>
<p>Astoria waited twenty years for Theodore Nott to say: "I never stopped loving her."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. consequences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria could still hear the words echoing in her eardrums: <em>I never stopped loving her. I never stopped loving her. I never stopped loving her. I never stopped loving her.</em></p>
<p>Dizzy by the bright lights of St. Mungo's and the way two sets of Nott blue eyes dug into the emerald of her Greengrass gaze, Astoria believed she unearthed those words out of a fantasy hidden in the secluded, chained crevices of her mind. She could scarcely think them real when all she had known was the bitter aftertaste of Theodore Nott's restraint.</p>
<p>Yet he had said them. He <em>had</em>.</p>
<p>It was the only reason why he had taken her elbow and disapparated them from Darcy's hospital room. Her niece, with her cheeks still wet from her crying, had raised two thumbs up at their twisting, fading figures.</p>
<p>Astoria watched as Theodore withdrew his hold from her, slowly making his way into the drawing room of the Nott Estate. The sight of his back turned toward her was common for Astoria; every time she had stepped foot inside his home, he slithered into the shadows at every corner, locking his study's door behind him, or facing the hearth of every room, his eyes reflecting the flames he considered walking through to escape her.</p>
<p><em>Does he ever ask about me? </em>Astoria had asked the last person she wanted to, both sat at a corner table of a tiny, new tea shop in Diagon Alley as a twelve year-old Scorpius met up with Al Potter just across the cobbled street.</p>
<p>
  <em>I don't know who you're—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You know who. </em>
</p>
<p>Blaise Zabini had leaned closer to the table, those dark, green eyes of his trying to find a truth in the lines of Astoria's face she would never dare to speak out loud again. For a second, she had thought he would not give in, but with a sigh he said, <em>What good would that do him if he did ask?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Is it better for him to pretend like I don't exist, then?</em>
</p>
<p><em>No, I wouldn't say better, </em>Blaise had said, <em>but it's the only way Theo can cope. He married your sister and you married his mate. The situation's fucked, Astoria. Can you blame him? </em></p>
<p><em>I know our situation. I'm in it, too. But </em>I<em> don't ignore him for the sake of forgetting.</em></p>
<p>There had been a moment of silence. The shop owner had walked over to their table, putting down the check with a flirty smile directed at Blaise. When they were alone again, Blaise added in a whisper, <em>He's not trying to forget you, Astoria. He's trying to live with what he has.</em></p>
<p>There was a time when Astoria did believe Theodore despised her for being another victim of their pureblood traditions. There were dark, painful years when she thought the love he had felt for her had been replaced with the contempt he displayed. It was only after her brief, never-repeated conversation with Blaise Zabini that she did start to consider that she owed Theodore the right to deal with the cards they had been dealt as best as he could.</p>
<p>Even if that meant sacrificing him to Silence.</p>
<p>But that was then. Now, the echo of his <em>I never stopped loving her</em> rung inside her eardrums again, shattering the edges of their compromised desolation.</p>
<p>"You could have lied to her," Astoria said, watching her words ripple across the silence that stretched out across from them like a turbulent, unforgiving sea.</p>
<p>Theodore looked behind his shoulder, slowly turning to face her again. There was a bottle of vodka in his hands now, a glint in his gaze that looked like he was hoping he could find the courage to take a dive in the depth of those waters at the bottom of his bottle. "Darcy isn't daft, Tori. She saw the Pensieve."</p>
<p>Her ears pulled in his deep, silky voice pronouncing her name. It unraveled her like she was a teenage witch still, her entire being hooked on him. It took Astoria a second or two, but she regained her footing. "Why did you say it?"</p>
<p>"Because it's true," he breathed. "You know that."</p>
<p>"Do I?" A part of Astoria wanted to believe she did not mean for her voice to gain volume, or for her to sound demanding, but she had spent a better part of two decades cradling their intertwined memories like fragile scraps of glass the very wind could disintegrate. "It's been twenty years. You could have stopped."</p>
<p>He narrowed his eyes at her. "Life isn't that simple."</p>
<p>"Had it been, would you have chosen to do so?"</p>
<p>Theodore set the bottle down on the center table. He contemplated it for a moment, the clear alcohol inviting him to drown himself in it, but he sat down on the couch, shaking his head. "It hasn't been twenty years for me. I've loved you for a lot longer. What's one lifetime?"</p>
<p>His words electrified the pieces inside of Astoria that felt the same, that thought the same, but instead of reigniting an ache, they started a fire. She marched further into the drawing room, her hands shaking, and hissed, "Why didn't you tell me about the marriage contracts? When you came back, Theo, why didn't you tell me what was about to happen?"</p>
<p>"I tried."</p>
<p><em>Two years,</em> Astoria had snarled when Theodore entered Flourish and Blotts decades ago, trying to purchase a book from her like the world (she) had not thought him dead. <em>You left for two years and you have the audacity to ignore me? Like I meant nothing to you!</em></p>
<p><em>For Salazar's sake, Tori, </em>he growled, trying to block her from hitting him with the book<em>, Stop!</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Don't—Tori—me—you—complete—arsehole!</em>
</p>
<p>When Theodore had managed to hold her wrists together, bringing them over her head, silence fell on them. His body had been pressed against hers, taking all of her rage with her when the book slipped from her hands with a muted thump.</p>
<p>Her next words had been said in a whisper: <em>Why did you not find me after the war?</em></p>
<p><em>Because the war's not over,</em> he had murmured back, a sadness in his gaze Astoria would only see for the years to come<em>. Not for me. </em></p>
<p>She shook her head now, pointing an accusing finger at him like Daphne had done herself back in St. Mungo's. "That wasn't trying, Theo. You had so many opportunities to tell me after that, but instead you chose to...you chose to—"</p>
<p>"Continue loving you? Yes. I'm aware," he replied, rubbing his left temple with two fingers. "I know what happened after I came out of hiding."</p>
<p>After Astoria had reassured herself she was not seeing Theodore Nott's ghost through Diagon Alley, they found themselves back where they had left off. So much had changed since their Hogwarts days, of course; she was no longer that proud, pretty girl who batted her eyelashes to get everything she wanted, nor was he a proud, handsome boy who had been claimed by the Dark Lord and marked with his sigil. The war had taken from them lives, money, freedoms, and possessions to balance the loss the Light Side had suffered. When Astoria saw Theodore again, she was employed at Flourish and Blotts, a quiet, hard-working woman yet not considered an adult, but who'd felt more than was possible in one lifetime; Theodore, a young man now, haunted by his losses, by his actions, reappeared without any shadows of the boy who had once spun her in circles under warm, bright sunlight, grinning wide at her breezy laughter.</p>
<p>But their love had stayed the same.</p>
<p>It had been the one thing Fate had not taken—<em>not yet</em>, anyway. Fate allowed them back into each other's arms, searching for home. Astoria and Theodore took what was left of themselves and put the fragments back together, their love, their hope golden bonds creating an eccentric whole. It no longer mattered what she had lost, as long as Astoria had Theodore, the world could keep her riches, her father, her past and she would build a better future with him by her side.</p>
<p>Theodore, however, never allowed himself to dream beyond their single, present moments. On his knees, he would worship Astoria; she was his divine hope, the closest to heaven he knew he was ever going to get. Always trembling, Theodore would run fingertips over her smooth, soft skin, connecting the lines of who she had been and who she had become. He marveled at all of it,<em> loved all of it</em>, even the parts she thought made her a monster.</p>
<p>And yet, Theodore had known of what was ultimately going to tear them apart.</p>
<p>How, then, could Astoria ever begrudge him the self-loathing he hardly knew how to keep at bay? How could she hate him for wishing her away when her mere presence reminded him how close they had been to the daydreams she would murmur into his ear, wrapped around each other in his old bedroom in the very same estate they now stood in?</p>
<p>"I told Malfoy about the contracts," Theodore pressed on, his voice quieter than before. "One night I was slipping out of Knockturn Alley when I saw him through the window of Flourish and Blotts after the street had closed. I saw who he was with. If he had fallen in love with someone else, then he had no intention of marrying you once the betrothal was called on."</p>
<p>"How did you even know about ours? You only had your own contract."</p>
<p>"My father told me," he answered, his eyes narrowed again. "Once we came out from hiding, he knew the Aurors would come for him. And they did. Before they took him, he told me he was going to call on Ava Greengrass to give Daphne to me. To ensure the Notts would continue. And...if I needed help, I should find Draco Malfoy because he, too, would have a Greengrass wife."</p>
<p>Astoria stilled. The memory wanted to poke its head out from where she had it buried; it wanted to remind her of the moment she had learned of the betrothal herself, back when the reigns of her life had been taken by pureblood traditions men demanded from their women.</p>
<p>"Malfoy and me," Theodore spoke again, "we tried so hard to get rid of those contracts. But by the time we found a cursebreaker who promised to undo the bind of the documents, old Lucius had known who his son met up with at night. The moment he knew his son intended to love Hermione Granger, all hope was lost. Lucius Malfoy would never let a muggle-born take his family name."</p>
<p>Astoria swallowed down the memory, taking in another breath before looking at him again. "We could have figured something out, Theo."</p>
<p>"No, Tori, we couldn't," he told her, his self-loathing echoing in the distance between them. "Not while Malfoy and I weren't patriarchs of our own families. Don't you see, we had no control of our lives either."</p>
<p>"Yes, but your father <em>died</em>," Astoria explained, shreds of her last conversation with Draco coming back to her like lost moments of time, like it had been years since they discussed this very matter instead of mere hours ago. "You became the owner of your marriage contract. If we would have just waited until—"</p>
<p>"That's not how it works. We weren't allowed to wait until my father and Lucius Malfoy died. Arranged marriages between pureblood lines are created for one reason—to continue the name. Continue the bloodline. We never had the luxury to wait until either of them were gone so in order to get back our freedom."</p>
<p>Astoria stepped closer to him, her gaze just as sharp, just as defiant as his. "I would have killed Lucius Malfoy if you told me before all of this could happen. I would have killed him before he took me from you."</p>
<p>Theodore stared at her for an instant; she wondered if he saw a glimpse of the girl she had once been. He blinked and then it was gone. "You're not capable of murder—"</p>
<p>"You don't know that!"</p>
<p>"Of course I do."</p>
<p>"Then <em>you</em> could have done it," Astoria yelled, all her rage, all her heartache flooding her at once. "Draco would have never hated you for it. You could have killed Lucius Malfoy and persuaded your father—"</p>
<p>"Is that who you think I am?" Theodore demanded.</p>
<p>She stumbled back a step, hearing the accusation ring out in the sea between them, but somehow her mouth still let out, "You were gone. For four years, you came and went just before Daphne disappeared and left you with Darcy. People whispered about what you were doing—Theo Nott, the Death Eater who refused to reform. Theo Nott, the man who refused to be a father to his daughter."</p>
<p>"What do you want me to say?" Theodore growled, standing from his seat. The blue in his eyes turned into the color of a midnight sky promising a storm. "That I did good things? That I integrated myself back into society? That I became just like <em>Draco</em>?"</p>
<p>Astoria felt a part of her that was conditioned to be Mrs. Malfoy stir, wanting to put her head down and press her lips into a tight line to keep from saying what she actually wanted to say, the same part of her that had been threatened by Lucius Malfoy if she strayed from her role as his son's dotting, respectful wife. But Lucius had been dead for years and Draco had never asked her to bite her tongue; so she continued to stand tall and bold like the girl Theodore used to know.</p>
<p>"I didn't care about what you were doing," she hissed back, her previous fire now consuming her heart. "I cared about <em>you</em>. I worried about you every day you were gone. You would leave Darcy with the house-elves and you would come back beaten and drunk, falling apart on the floor and you would never let me—"</p>
<p>"I didn't want to be saved, Astoria, least of all by you!" The force of Theodore's words invited the sea of silence to crash around them again. At the impact, he took a step back; his eyes were wide, shock settling in. He looked away from her as he had done for twenty years, reaching for the bottle of vodka that would lessen the ache she caused inside him.</p>
<p>Astoria felt the same fire in her heart surge up, burning her throat and stinging in her eyes. She wanted to believe they could get back to who they once had been, irrevocably in love with each other, jigsaw pieces that fit and belonged together, but maybe years of washing Astoria away with alcohol and resentment had erased every bit of their love from what was left of Theodore's good, unbroken parts.</p>
<p>A voice in her head told her to go, it was too late in this lifetime to love each other again, but Theodore put the bottle down without having brought it up to his lips. Instead, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, like he was wiping away the reflex to drown Astoria away.</p>
<p>"I found them," he whispered after another moment of silence. His eyes turned to her again, the storm passing now. Astoria recognized the clearing skies now; when she was fourteen, she had fallen in love with the color, with the vulnerability and hope it carried. "The Death Eaters that escaped the Ministry after the war. It wasn't hard for me; once you've lived like a rat, it's easy to find other rats."</p>
<p>"You killed them."</p>
<p>Theodore watched as Astoria sat down, no trace of disgust, anger, or pity. It reminded him of a time before he had to leave her, a time before the Dark Lord fell and he would have to fight Death Eaters to survive in the shadows. He almost smiled at the memory of her hands on his face, saying <em>show me the bodies and I'll bury them with you. </em></p>
<p>"Only one," he told her. "Rookwood."</p>
<p>Astoria was hardly surprised by the resurfacing hatred she felt for that Death Eater. She had known what Augustus Rookwood had done. Nott Sr.'s only brother had been caught helping a muggle-born escape; ever the faithful servant, Rookwood delivered the news to the Dark Lord himself. The brother's blood had been demanded as payment for the offense, serving, too, as a reminder to the rest of the Death Eaters that they had no choice but to serve the Dark Lord. When Nott Sr. refused to present his brother's head as repentance, the entire family fled underground.</p>
<p>Not before Rookwood murdered Mrs. Nott before they disappeared.</p>
<p>All Astoria had left from Theodore was a scrap of parchment that read: <em>I'll see you in another life, Tori.</em> She would not see him again until two years later, walking down Diagon Alley like another ghost the war had produced.</p>
<p>"I'd been searching for him for three years," he continued. "Every time I found a rat, I'd manage to get something about Rookwood, a whisper, or a rumor. They were all willing to talk for food, for water, for news of their families. When they weren't...well, it's not impossible to overpower a rat. I'd take the whisper, leave them food, and send an anonymous tip to Potter and his Aurors as to where they could find their runaway Death Eaters."</p>
<p>"What happened after you killed him?" Astoria asked him as he pulled out a silver coin from the pocket of his trousers. She knew what it was; after all, she had spent years watching Draco lose himself in every coin the Ministry sent, reminding him of the penance he served as a defected criminal of war, reminding him of everything he had been and what it had cost their world.</p>
<p>It had never been lost to Astoria that Theodore was five years behind Draco.</p>
<p>Now she knew why The Department of Rehabilitation for Former War Criminals had considered his want for reformation weak in comparison to other Death Eaters who wanted to be forgiven.</p>
<p>"Revenge isn't a permanent reason to keep living," said Theodore, his eyes getting lost on the coin for a quiet moment. Then, with a breath, he raised it so she could see the fifteen years carved in the silver. "After you married Malfoy, I thought the only thing that would keep me going was the promise I made to kill Rookwood. I let it consume me. The hatred, the fury—it was all that was left when I lost you."</p>
<p>Astoria dared herself to reach for his hand. As she expected, his reaction was to pull away; his fingers twitched, his jaw squared off at the touch, but he took another breath, looked into her emerald eyes, and let his hand clutch onto hers.</p>
<p>For another stretch of silence, Theodore lost himself in the gesture. Astoria wondered if his mind was replaying the same memories she had: fingers brushing in the crowded Slytherin common room, one of his hands on her waist and the other on her cheek, his mouth pressing against hers in the shadows of the castle, her fingernails scratching his scalp, his head on her lap as he read poetry books his friends called him a pretentious arsehole for liking.</p>
<p>"The night I came home after I killed Rookwood, I sat right here, in this room, drinking to fill the void again, and then Darcy tumbled in." Theodore's gaze was storming again. He had the same expression he had on at St. Mungo's when he looked at his daughter, right before confessing a secret he and Astoria had hidden away. "She was four, Tori, but it was like I was finally looking at her. My child. <em>Mine</em>. The only good I'd done since loving you, and I had been so consumed with my revenge and my pain, I neglected her. I left her behind just as Daphne had done. From then on I knew if I was going to live, it was going to be for her."</p>
<p>"Darcy loves you, Theo," Astoria murmured with a press of her fingers. "More than you know."</p>
<p>"I get that now," he said, his voice just as low, just as careful. "She has spent years trying to get you and me right here."</p>
<p>Astoria felt her heart pick up pace, crashing against the cage of bones around it by the magnitude of what his words meant. There was a whirlwind inside of her head, too; it was taking all of her memories, every one where Theodore was a protagonist and every one where he was missing and meshed them together. All of her love, all of her pain, all of her despair flooded down her chest.</p>
<p>"What about Daphne?"</p>
<p>"Daphne has lived in France for most of our marriage," Theodore said, giving Astoria another moment to steady the overdrive of her heart and her lungs. "Tracey Flint-Davis has been keeping her company for sixteen years. Yet, if you'd ask Marcus where his wife goes for weeks at a time, he'd tell you Tracey takes care of a cousin in Nice."</p>
<p>Astoria blinked at Theodore, confusion settling in the lines of her face. "Daphne has hated Tracey since school."</p>
<p>"Yeah, well," he replied with a rare laugh, "Zabini has always said there's a fine line between hate and a passionate shag."</p>
<p>"Daphne would have told me—"</p>
<p>"<em>Would she?</em>" Theodore interjected, no trace of his previous amusement lingering in his own expression. His fingers tightened around hers. "Would she tell <em>you</em>—her little sister with the perfect family? You, with a husband who cares for you, a son that loves you, and a house that doesn't smell bitter? No, Tori. Daphne would never tell you she hates me, that she resents our daughter for not filling the void she carries, or that she seeks comfort in the arms of another forced into a loveless marriage."</p>
<p>With a deep breath, Astoria pulled their hands up to her chest. She held onto him, scared that he would disappear back into the dark, lonely corners of her mind if she let go. Still, in a careful whisper, she said, "Who would I be if I take her husband?"</p>
<p>Theodore gently pulled his hand out of hers. He saw her emerald eyes flash in panic, but he cupped the side of her face. He had not done so for decades, but his palm still fit in the same smooth, delicate way it had done in their youth. He wanted to tell her that Daphne would rage, would scream, and would hate her, but with time, with continuous access to his Gringotts vault, she would hate her less over the years.</p>
<p>Still, Astoria loved Daphne more than the latter was deserving of. Daphne, who had only thought of herself, of her own despair and anger during the hardest, poorest time the Greengrass family faced after the Dark Lord's fall and their father's death. Daphne, who had never asked Astoria about her life so long as she kept working at Flourish and Blotts and helped put food on the table. Daphne, who was so desperate to regain the status of her previous life, never looked at Astoria's tears when their arranged marriages were called to fruition.</p>
<p><em>Our dear friends</em>, Mrs. Greengrass had said years ago, bringing Astoria's attention to the Malfoy family sat in their dingy, small sitting room, <em>came to tell us about the legal documents they retrieved from the Ministry after they emptied our vaults. Among them was a marriage contract your father and Lucius had created for you and darling Draco. </em></p>
<p><em>No,</em> Astoria had gasped, her back glued to the door she had just entered through, Theodore's scent still clinging to her skin. <em>No, I—why would you want him to marry me? I don't...I don't have a fortune to give. </em></p>
<p><em>It is not about the gold, Miss Greengrass,</em> Lucius had said through his teeth, his silver eyes casting disdain at his only son, <em>It is about Draco marrying a pureblood girl. Your father and I did not base this arranged marriage solely as a business matter, rather to continue the preservation of our bloodlines.</em></p>
<p>Draco had sat there in silence, his grey eyes forming violent hurricanes as he looked at her. Astoria had wanted to point out to Mr. Malfoy that his son looked far from wanting to continue their traditions, least of all make Astoria his wife. When she could not find the words, however, her silence had been mistaken for compliance.</p>
<p><em>It's settled then,</em> said Mrs. Greengrass with a smile Astoria had not seen in so long. <em>Both my girls will marry honorable boys. It's all a mother could want for her daughters.</em></p>
<p><em>Both? </em>Astoria had managed to ask as the ground grew unsteady under her feet.</p>
<p><em>Father made us both marriage contracts,</em> Daphne had said, a delirious glint flashing in her green eyes. <em>When you marry Malfoy and I marry Nott, we'll finally get to leave this shithole and get back to our real lives.</em></p>
<p>"It won't be easy," Theodore began to say, voice soft as it frayed with dread at what would come next. "We both know that. If you choose us, Tori, if you choose to get back everything that you had to give up, it comes with consequences. Ultimately, the choice is only yours. And I...I can understand if staying with Malfoy is the better option—"</p>
<p>Astoria stopped the rest of his words from coming out. She put her mouth against his, making him swallow back the possibility that she could ever let him go again. She kissed him in such a way that her magic rushed up her spine, lifting her up until her arms were now wrapped around Theodore. He held her back, his hands on her face, devouring her like he would never get to do this again.</p>
<p>But he would.</p>
<p>She knew <em>that</em> with her whole heart. Maybe there will be consequences, and maybe being with him will not be easy, but Astoria has not loved him for most of her life to not know that she would choose Theodore Nott in this lifetime and all others to come.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>X</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rose was observing the car parked in the driveway. It was an old, white Chevy Lumina that still smelled like new leather, courtesy of an enchantment cast decades ago. Four times she had sat in the backseat, each time a little uneasy by the moving, metal contraption with only a belt to keep her and Hugo safe. Neither ever complained, however; they just held hands in the back, smiling at Gran and Grandad Granger in the front seats, both over the moon that their grandchildren were visiting. Rose remembered climbing out of the car and onto that driveway, relief at finally being able to get out of that death trap, and smiling wide at the house her mother had grown up in.</p>
<p>She was not smiling now.</p>
<p>When Rose had climbed out of the car this time around, it was to unload it. It was to finish moving her mother back into her childhood home.</p>
<p>It would have been easier to Floo the remaining boxes from the house Ron and Hermione Weasley used to share, but Hugo wanted the drive. They had not seen the scenic route since before Gran and Grandad Granger had died. To him, it seemed fitting they return the muggle way, carrying the last bit of their previous life in the boot of the car.</p>
<p>In the back seat, Rose spent two hours with her nose pressed against the glass, dreading every mile that put them closer to the Granger house. There was a knot in her throat she could not decipher: fury or sorrow? Or <em>both</em>? When she would blink away from the passing roads, Rose would catch her mother's eyes in the rearview mirror and she wanted to scream, to cry, to demand to be let out of the car. Beside her, Scorpius would squeeze her fingers, silently telling her all of those were a cop-out.</p>
<p>The truth was this: Hermione Weasley had once again become Hermione Granger.</p>
<p>"You think they knew?" Hugo came out of the house with Scorpius in tow. "Gran and Grandad, I mean. You think they knew we didn't like riding in the car when we were little?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said Rose, slamming the back right door shut. She was carrying a box with her own name on it, miscellaneous things she could use to liven up her room in her mother's old new house. "They asked Mum to connect the Floo."</p>
<p>Scorpius looked around, silver eyes glittering with curiosity as three little kids chased each other in their bicycles down the street, one with a small dog in a basket happily barking away.</p>
<p>"Think Mum will teach me how to drive it? I've got all summer."</p>
<p>Rose turned away from Scorpius, frowning. "Are you staying here, then?"</p>
<p>With a huff, Hugo pulled out the last box from the boot. His own box, packed to the top. Although he knew he shouldn't, he closed the boot with a nonverbal, making his sister scowl further. "This <em>is</em> Mum's house now, Ro. Get over it."</p>
<p>"What about Dad?"</p>
<p>"Dad's fine," Hugo told her with a frown of his own. "Mum's fine. Everything's fine—"</p>
<p>"This is what's left of our family," she hissed, adjusting her box so she could point an accusing finger at the house. "How can everything be fine, Hugo?"</p>
<p>Scorpius cleared his throat, his attention now on the siblings. He could see the red creeping up onto their cheeks, burning. When silence fell between the two, he immediately said, "Hermione asked me to help with the front yard. Apparently there's a tree that can use apples—or fruit of my choosing, she said. Do you want to help, Ro?"</p>
<p>"No," Rose told him, words still sharp. "I'm putting this box in there and then we're leaving. Hugo can help Mum."</p>
<p>With a shake of his head, Hugo turned on his heels and headed back into the house. Rose followed, each step a stomp. She did not want to come back into her grandparents' house like this, angry and hurt, not since the last time she had crossed the door she did so with a chest full of grief. She had been closer to her Weasley grandparents for reasons that were not in the Grangers' control, but Rose had genuinely loved them. The Grangers were kind, gentle, and fascinating with their knowledge of a world so different than hers. She vowed to always respect their memory by remembering who they had been.</p>
<p>Naturally, she wanted to settle the hurricane brewing inside of her, but when she came into the sitting room, blinking away from the old picture frames hung on the walls, it was filled with all the boxes Hermione had yet to unpack since her move months back.</p>
<p>"Do you want me to start separating your books?" asked Hugo as he set his box down in the furthest corner of the room. "Alphabetical or by subject?"</p>
<p>"Both?" Their mother grinned from where she sat in the middle of the room, her brown curls pulled up into a messy ponytail at the top of her head, her wand stuck through the thick, pink hair-tie. She wore an old Gryffindor t-shirt, the already short sleeves rolled up to her shoulders; even from where Rose stood, she could see the old scars on her left arm, souvenirs from a war she doesn't really talk about.</p>
<p>"Of course," said Hugo with a snort. "Look who I'm talking to."</p>
<p>Rose dropped her box on top of another. Hermione turned to her, the same smile she had directed at her son still in place. Rose did not want it—she did not want to pretend like everything was fine. She did not want to pretend this new life had not come from the ashes of another.</p>
<p>A life Rose had not known ended long before she was even told of its demise.</p>
<p>"Why didn't you tell me, Mum?" she demanded, moving past the cardboard boxes near the wall closest to her as she took several harsh steps in Hermione's direction. "You told Hugo—"</p>
<p>"Don't start with that again," Hugo defended. "I told you already, they didn't tell me. I figured it out. It might have escaped your notice, but I'm just as smart as you are."</p>
<p>Hermione reached for Hugo's wrist. Like Ron, his ears turned red when he was angry, so she gave her son a squeeze, pleading for him to reel his ire back in. Rose, on the other hand, still felt her rage pooling in her mouth, but in the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of two urns on the mantle of the fireplace, a vase of white roses in the middle. In those ornate, black and bronze urns were the ashes of her grandparents.</p>
<p>"You're not as smart as me," Rose said after a moment, pushing away all that the Grangers never were. "You're smarter. Always have been."</p>
<p>Hugo raised a brow, but the aggravation in his eyes dimmed. "Good," he still said with a bite. "Now we're on the same page, then."</p>
<p>Rose did not pretend to smile at her brother, but she did take in a deep breath. On the exhale, the tint of Weasley red on her cheeks started fading. She glanced around the sitting room, at all the boxes Hermione had packed up from a previous life she did not want anymore. The thought stirred red inside of her again, but grief weighed a lot heavier on her shoulders.</p>
<p>Grief at the empty spots Hermione had left in the house she had once shared with Ron Weasley.</p>
<p>Grief at the family they had been before Hermione and Ron had decided it was no longer enough.</p>
<p><em>It's not your mum's fault,</em> Ron had told Rose, both looking at the vacant bookcase in their own sitting room. <em>We both knew it'd been over for a while now, Rosie.</em></p>
<p><em>I just...I don't understand,</em> Rose hated how childish she sounded, how terrified she felt that a part of them was ending, <em>Don't you love each other?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Of course. 'Mione's my best friend.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That's not what I—</em>
</p>
<p><em>I know what you meant, </em>Ron had replied with a small laugh, putting a hand on Rose's shoulder, <em>but it's the love we do have. In order to keep it, we had to accept we were better off going our own way.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Dad, I'm just...How did I miss that you two were unhappy? </em>
</p>
<p><em>I wouldn't say unhappy, just unfulfilled—</em>your mum's words.<em> Which, of course, sums it up, doesn't it? But you didn't miss it, Rosie. It just wasn't necessary for you to know. It was a spouse thing, not a parent thing. </em></p>
<p><em>It was a family thing, </em>Rose stated, looking up at her dad with narrowed brown eyes that were all too familiar to him. <em>Now it's just...</em>gone.</p>
<p>Ron squeezed her shoulder, slowly steering her away from the bookcase.<em> It's not gone. It's just different.</em></p>
<p>"I just want to know what happened."</p>
<p>From the corner where he had started to separate books into categories, Hugo looked up at his sister again. He wanted to roll his eyes at her; Rose was inquisitive, sure, but sometimes that boarded being nosy. While Hugo could live with knowing just the question or just the answer, Rose needed the question, every variable presented, and the answer in order to make sense of the outcome. Their mother was that way, too. People made the assumption that Hugo was more like Hermione because he mostly had her cheerful disposition, but Rose had more of her than either realized.</p>
<p>"I'll help Scorpius out, shall I?" said Hugo as he stood, knowing well enough he did not need the conversation that came next. "We were both in the Herbology Huddle last year and I can promise you he's rubbish with any form of plants."</p>
<p>Rose's gaze followed her brother to the door. Before he crossed it, however, Hugo gave her a thumb's up and she was flooded with guilt at having been such a cow. Her little brother did not deserve to be on the other side of her fear, not when he spent most of his life reminding her she was actually quite brave.</p>
<p>"We had a plan, Ron and me," Hermione began, looking at Rose for a moment before turning back to her box. It was labeled <b>Eighth Year</b>. "Stay together. We promised that to each other when we married. It's what you hope for, of course. That you can face anything together, coming out stronger each and every time. Ron and I had been doing that since we were best friends, fighting each other or fighting dark forces. It made sense back then, but..."</p>
<p>"But?" Rose asked tentatively, looking away from the large, open window in the room. On the other side of the glass, Hugo was now roaring with laughter at a tree branch that smacked Scorpius on the face.</p>
<p>Hermione turned back to her daughter, brown eyes glittering as the sun doused around her. They were golden like Rose knew her own became under such warm light, but there was a sadness in her mother's gaze that was rare for sunlight. "We were just staying, not actually moving. Not in the same path, at least."</p>
<p>Rose took a few steps further into the room, coming to a halt at an armchair her Gran used to love. There was an old quilt on the seat she also recognized; Rose had made it out of old jumpers that no longer fit, back when she was twelve and started getting into giving handmade gifts to her family. Her mother had gotten the quilt that Christmas, for her to curl up warm and cozy with whichever new release she was reading for Flourish and Blotts.</p>
<p>She was not leaving Rose, was she? She was not leaving behind her old life—not completely.</p>
<p>With that realization lifting a weight from her chest, Rose still found herself asking, "When did you know? When did you know you didn't love Dad anymore?"</p>
<p>"I do love—"</p>
<p>"You know what I mean," Rose clarified, reaching for the old quilt before sitting down on the armchair. "When did you know you weren't in love?"</p>
<p>Hermione hesitated; she took in a deep breath, holding it until it pushed against her chest, wanting to come out, wanting to be fed to her lungs, or to be let out of its cage. When she did release it, she murmured, "I don't know."</p>
<p>
  <em>Something changed, didn't it? With us.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It just feels different now, Ron.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Yes, I know that,</em> he replied in a whisper, their wedding rings placed on the kitchen table where they sat, looking at each other, at what was left of their marriage. <em>I just mean...Before this. Before we got married. I always felt...Harry said I was crazy, but there was a time I wasn't sure you were the same person. Truthfully, I wasn't sure I was the same person, either. </em></p>
<p><em>We spent a year apart,</em> Hermione said. <em>Hogwarts and Auror training. We had separate lives. We became separate people.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>No Golden Trio. No Ron and Hermione. Just individuals. And somehow, I still got down on one knee and asked you to marry me. </em>
</p>
<p><em>Not your brightest choice, Ronald, </em>she had laughed, tears falling down her cheeks.</p>
<p>He managed a half-hearted grin. <em>You're supposed to be the Brightest Witch of Her Age. If it's anyone's fault, it's </em>yours<em>. </em></p>
<p><em>This is the first time we've laughed in so long and it's on the day we've settled on divorce, </em>Hermione pointed out after a long moment, letting the amusement fade into the silence that lingered in their house when their children were away. <em>I don't regret saying yes</em>, she added after another pause, <em>I regret not being the person you deserved.</em></p>
<p>Ron reached for her hand.<em> Or me yours.</em></p>
<p>"I suppose," Hermione continued, her eyes drifting to her box again, "we both clung on to the idea of us because it made sense. You know, best friends who grew up together."</p>
<p>"The cliche."</p>
<p>"Like two enemies falling in love."</p>
<p>"You think Scor and I are cliched?"</p>
<p>Hermione turned to Rose, setting an old, dusty camera on the left of her crossed legs. "You weren't enemies, sweetheart. Just shy about pasts that weren't yours."</p>
<p>Rose bunched up the quilt in her hands as she processed the words. She had the question, the answer, and now she was getting the variables. If she arranged them into a proper equation, the next logical thing that crossed her head was, "You were in love with someone else before. Someone who wasn't Dad."</p>
<p>Again, Hermione hesitated; her mouth closed, keeping in the first lie she was inclined to give after twenty years of denying there ever was a past that did not include Ron Weasley. She knew, too, that Rose was hoping for the lie, hoping for nothing to have been as important as their family was to Hermione. And nothing was—nothing mattered more than Rose and Hugo. Nothing mattered more than their own happiness.</p>
<p>Even if Hermione had to give up her own for them to have theirs.</p>
<p>Maybe it wasn't fair. Maybe Hermione was a hypocrite for telling Astoria Malfoy women were allowed to be more than just mothers, but how could she confess to Rose that the man Hermione loved before and after Ron—in between, too, hidden in the places Hermione herself could not reach most days—was the father of her fiance? Did Rose and Scorpius not have enough obstacles to overcome without adding Hermione's past to it, too? What sort of mother would that make her if she took what she wanted?</p>
<p>
  <em>I don't believe in fate, Astoria, but I can't deny there was something much larger than Draco and I waiting to manifest itself. Admittedly, even now, I wonder if we were always destined to be nothing more than memories I can't share with anyone else. </em>
</p>
<p>Hermione did not think her heart was capable of shattering even more, but now there was dust where she used to carry her time with Draco Malfoy.</p>
<p>"He broke your heart?" Rose spoke, bringing Hermione back from that day at St. Mungo's, back when Draco knew exactly what Hermione was doing when she no longer could meet his gaze.</p>
<p>"Yes," murmured Hermione. "But I broke his, too."</p>
<p>"Who was—"</p>
<p>"I know you're scared we won't be a family anymore, but that won't ever happen, sweetheart. Your father and I, believe it or not, are capable of being your parents without being married. We're capable of being friends," Hermione said, forcing a smile to tug up the corners of her mouth. "Best friends when the planets are aligned right. You don't have anything to worry about. I promise."</p>
<p>Rose stood from the armchair, placing the quilt down. "Still family. Just different now." Before silence could fall on them again, she said, "I think Dad's seeing someone."</p>
<p>Hermione laughed, but Rose could hear sorrow underlining the sound. "Oh, I know. The ironed trousers tipped you off, didn't it?"</p>
<p>"And the cologne," said Rose. Then, just as carefully she added, "You're okay with that?"</p>
<p>"Quite. I told him to start dating again."</p>
<p>"But what about you—"</p>
<p>"Lunch," Hermione interjected, straightening out her back. "I'm thinking Mediterranean. I saw a lovely spot just down the street. I'll have the rest of this cleared out by the time you come back and we can watch a film while we eat. Oh, but after I do need you and Hugo to sort out your rooms."</p>
<p>Rose swallowed the rest of what she wanted to say. She knew her mother was deflecting. It unnerved her slightly; it was her father's tactic to ignore uncomfortable moments until they went away, but to see Hermione doing the same only told Rose there was so much more to what she left unsaid.</p>
<p>
  <em>We will always put your happiness first.</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione had said that a week ago in St. Mungo's, but Rose has been hearing it throughout all of her life. It was not until now that she heard what came after the silence: <em>even above our own.</em></p>
<p>It made Rose stop herself from crossing out of the sitting room. Hermione was once again looking through her cardboard box, brown eyes glittering with tears she no doubt was waiting to release once her daughter had gone through the door. Guilt sent a shock up Rose's spine. She had not known heartbreak—not really. Rose knew a longing that ached in the secret parts of her heart where Scorpius' name had been etched in gold, back when she watched him from afar, back when she wished he would talk to her, know her, look at her, love her. That type of ache never resembled what glimmered in her mother's eyes now.</p>
<p>It was not all about Ron. Rose could see that clearly, too; although she might have been preoccupied with her studies or too involved with her own matters of the heart, she knew what kind of marriage her parents had. When it was good, Rose always saw her father's arms wrapped around Hermione, a kiss never too far from her temple or her cheek, and her mother would smile at him, squeezing his hand, affection in her brown eyes when he entered a room. When it was bad, Ron would try not to yell, but would always fail, his face as red as their Weasley hair, and he would slam the door shut as he left, only to come back hours later with resentment leaving footprints on his way in. Her mother would scream back, her hands shaking as the affection in eyes turned bitter, and she would lock herself away in her study, but the books lining her walls could never keep her cries from sounding out to the rest of the house.</p>
<p>Rose knew marriages were composed of good and bad moments. She had grown up surrounded by her aunts and uncles, each marital unit composed of different people and different love languages. Through those marriages, Rose had learned that intending to love someone forever meant bracing storms together. But in order to enjoy those years of sunlight, they had to want to cross the monsoon together, too.</p>
<p>"Do you still love him?" Rose asked. "The man who broke your heart."</p>
<p>Hermione blinked away from the photo album in her hands now, a layer of dust turning the engraved, emerald year on the cover into a grey. "It doesn't matter."</p>
<p>"It matters if you do, Mum."</p>
<p>Looking back at the album gave Hermione an excuse to hide the tear that fell down her cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb before opening the book. Every photograph in it was of her: curled in an armchair in the Heads' common room, a book opened on her lap, her wand keeping her curls up in a messy bun; her sat in the middle of her bed, rose petals raining down on her, her big, brown eyes marveling at them; her leaning against the counter of the small Heads' kitchen, a big, glass bowl of cookie dough tucked in one arm as her hand scooped a spoon into her mouth, laughing at the camera; her in a pretty, yellow dress, standing under the archway of her dorm with a hand stretched out, pink lips pouting; one of her face, looking straight at the camera, gold in her eyes as she looked at who was behind the lens.</p>
<p>Hermione remembered everything that led to those stamps of time. She remembered everything that happened during and everything that happened after the pictures had been taken. Draco Malfoy never wanted to be in any of them, too worried, too casual about monsters not photographing well. When he would put the camera down, she would walk over to him, put her arms around him, and kissed him until he believed she loved every part of him he was too ashamed, too frightened, too broken to look at.</p>
<p>"Yes," Hermione said with a shallow breath, closing the album. The lie did not come crawling out this time. It allowed truth to present itself. "I still do."</p>
<p>Just as guilt had stirred within her, Rose felt an uneasy, childish part of her grow resentful of the answer. She looked past her mother; outside the open window, where Scorpius was making mangos grow from the lone tree in the front garden as Hugo kept watch for nosy Muggles. Rose could roll her eyes at the scene, but unfathomable love overpowered traces of everything else.</p>
<p>Then she knew: how could anybody live without that type of love in their life?</p>
<p>Rose, then, could not begrudge either of her parents for losing the spark that kept them together all these years. She would rather see them happy and apart than broken and together. If they were not meant for each other in the same way Scorpius Malfoy was meant for Rose, her parents deserved to find the people that were.</p>
<p>"Then it matters," she repeated, looking back at Hermione. "It always matters when you love someone, Mum. You taught me that."</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No one expected it <em>not</em> to be odd.</p><p>Uncomfortable.</p><p>If it had not been, Scorpius would have assumed his family was definitely off their rocker. Not like the situation itself wasn't already <em>fucking mad</em>. Odd.</p><p>Uncomfortable.</p><p>He shifted in his seat, uncrossing and crossing his arms again as he looked up at his parents.</p><p><em>I don't understand, </em>Scorpius had said. He was sure he looked like he had been hit with a bludger, just like in Fourth Year when he was playing quidditch with the Potter/Weasleys and an older student in the stands bewitched all the balls to fly at him, intending to have a little fun at the expense of a Malfoy (Rose had hexed that student—not before Al had flown directly at him, breaking both their ribs).<em> I mean, I know you had an arranged marriage. I just didn't know you hated each other.</em></p><p>
  <em>We don't hate each other, sweetheart.</em>
</p><p><em>Not always,</em> Draco had said, laughing into his glass of whiskey.</p><p>Neither Astoria or Scorpius found it funny.</p><p>From across Scorpius, where she sat next to Draco at the dinner table, food long forgotten, Astoria reached out to take her son's hand.<em> Nothing is going to change. I promise. We are still your parents. And we love you. You know that, don't you? </em></p><p><em>Yes,</em> mumbled Scorpius. Because he did know it. His parents had always smothered him with their adoration. With their pride. It was because Scorpius knew how it looked when they both individually loved someone that he understood early on that they did not love each other.</p><p>Not in the way parents should.</p><p><em>I can't believe Grandfather Malfoy forced you to marry Dad, </em>he then added, a frown pushing his brows together. <em>If someone made me leave Rose...I think I'd die. Or kill them. Or both.</em></p><p>
  <em>Yes. It's all quite Shakespearean, isn't it? Romeo and Juliet. A bit boring if you ask me.</em>
</p><p><em>Draco</em>, hissed Astoria, her green eyes flashing with a warning that made Scorpius almost nostalgic. He wouldn't get to see this anymore.</p><p>Scorpius watched his father sip his drink before setting it back on the table. When Draco's silver eyes met his son's, he said, <em>Life's not always fair, Scorpius. Sometimes we lose the things we love. Sometimes...people like us don't get second chances. Your mother gets hers now.</em> Then, pausing for a breath, he continued, <em>You assume we hated each other, but that isn't exactly true. Maybe we resented each other at times, but we're friends. As such, I </em>want<em> her to go. I want her to be with Theo because she deserves it. After being married to me for twenty years, even </em>you<em> can agree Astoria deserves happiness—deserves to be loved truly.</em></p><p>"I'm keeping this book," Scorpius heard his mother say. She raised an old, leatherbound book up for Draco to see. "I did buy it, after all."</p><p>"With <em>my</em> money," scoffed Draco as he closed a trunk already full with books.</p><p>"I was the one that saw it for what it was worth," Astoria reminded him, rolling her eyes in a manner unbecoming of a pureblood woman of her stature. Still, there was a smile threatening to pull at her red-painted lips. "I was also the one who convinced Borgin to sell it, remember? Not that he had a choice, mind you. His shop was closing down. Poor fool. Still, it is <em>mine</em>."</p><p>"Fine. Keep the blasted thing. In fact, consider it a parting gift. If Theo ever runs Nott Corps to the ground, you have a small fortune in that book to keep you afloat."</p><p>When Astoria laughed—<em>genuinely</em> laughed—Scorpius felt something burn behind his eyes. He had not grown up in a cold, dark home with the same evil shades that chipped away at his father and mother's souls, but Scorpius had never seen his parents like this. Amused by one another. Carefree by the presence of the other.</p><p>It was like something had broken between them.</p><p>Resentment.</p><p>Grief.</p><p>Scorpius knew his parents respected each other. It was the one thing he was certain about their marriage; his father never raised his voice at Astoria with malicious intent, nor did she ever belittle Draco because of the distrust that still lingered on the Malfoy name. Yet, Scorpius would have never considered them friends. Friends laughed with and at each other, they shared meaningful and meaningless conversations, they defended each other, they bickered, they liked each other's company—his parents were <em>acquaintances</em> at best.</p><p>Respectful acquaintances bound together by law and pureblood traditions.</p><p>He often looked at Mr. and Mrs. Potter when he visited Godric's Hollow and envied the love Al had grown up with. Scorpius' childhood was nice, happy, but there was always a notable difference to his own and the one his best mate had. However, no matter how much Scorpius wished and envisioned his parents in love like the Potters, the end result never looked right. It never truly resembled them.</p><p>Now Scorpius knew why.</p><p>If Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass were not destined for each other, then Scorpius could want his parents to find the people that <em>were</em> meant for them.</p><p>Even if Astoria's great, epic love was Uncle Theo.</p><p>Scorpius, then, could not be wholly angry at these revelations, could he? They happened long before he was born. Long before the monster that was Lucius Malfoy injected venom and misery into the already-ruined lives of Draco and Astoria.</p><p>He was not raised with violent, vengeful tendencies, but Scorpius still had Malfoy blood. No matter how much light his father had pumped into the name, working for decades to rehabilitate it into something better for his son's future, Scorpius meant what he had said: <em>If someone made me leave Rose...I think I'd die. Or kill them. </em></p><p>He didn't know how Astoria survived loving a man married to her sister this long.</p><p>"Dad," Scorpius called, his focus coming back to the manor's library as his parents continued to divide a bookcase into this-is-mine-and-this-is-yours piles. "Do you have an Uncle Theo?"</p><p>"Doubtful," Draco said with another scoff. "Malfoys don't assign common names to their heirs."</p><p>"Theodore is a traditional name—"</p><p>"No. That's not what I meant," said Scorpius, clearing his throat as he cut across his mother's defense. "Was there somebody else for you, too? Somebody you loved and Grandfather took away?"</p><p>There was no more lighthearted air of amusement between his parents. It was subtle, but Scorpius, although not a master of masks and detachment, saw the look they shared. It was odd.</p><p>Uncomfortable.</p><p>Like they were back to hiding things neither wished Scorpius to know. They had done it often in his childhood when they refused to talk of a war that had broken their families—a war their families started that broke the world. They taught Scorpius different values, but they hid the ones they had been raised with, tucking them away behind those masks and that detachment.</p><p>Now they were forcing something else into the shadows.</p><p>"There was, wasn't there?" Scorpius pressed, a look of horror flashing across his silver eyes. "How could he do that to you? What kind of father interferes with the person his son loves?"</p><p><em>I can talk to her,</em> Astoria had murmured to Draco, the midnight wind louder than her voice as they walked the gardens of Malfoy Manor.<em> I can make Hermione see—</em></p><p><em>Tori, </em>said Draco, <em>no one makes Hermione do anything. She made her choice.</em></p><p><em>It's the </em>wrong<em> choice.</em></p><p><em>Is it?</em> His laugh was colder than the bitter night. <em>I'm happy for you and Theo. Truly, I am. I'll have the divorce papers ready for you tomorrow morning. But what do you think will be harder for Scorpius to accept? You loving his Uncle Theo or me loving his girlfriend's mother? The truth is I was never meant to have her. I've been terrified to accept our fate, but Hermione has always been braver. She made the choice that will keep Scorpius and Rose happy.</em></p><p>Astoria stopped, her fingers wrapping around Draco's elbow to keep him in place. <em>The lives we were born into were always meant to have their consequences, </em>she told him, <em>that's true, but when do we stop letting it take from us? When is our debt finally repaid? </em></p><p>
  <em>Your father died bearing the Dark Mark, Astoria. Just as mine did. Just as I will. This life doesn't owe Death Eaters anything. Let alone love.</em>
</p><p><em>Draco, </em>please<em>—</em></p><p><em>I was far luckier than most,</em> he said, pulling his arm back from Astoria's touch.<em> I had my stolen moments with Hermione. That's it for this life. Maybe in the next I'll find her again. Without a Dark Mark on my arm. Maybe then I'll finally deserve to be loved by her.</em></p><p>"It doesn't matter," Draco told his son before turning his back toward him. He waved his wand over another stack of books, levitating them into a second trunk Astoria was taking with her.</p><p>Scorpius stood from his armchair, frowning. "How can it not, Dad?"</p><p>"It was a long time ago, sweetheart," Astoria said carefully, green eyes shifting between Scorpius and Draco. "People move on."</p><p>"You didn't." Scorpius did not mean for his tone to sound accusing, but his mother still winced at the sharpness of his words. He paused, taking a breath before giving her an apologetic look. When she nodded, accepting it, Scorpius then added, "Do you still love that person, Dad?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>Astoria did not have to jerk her head at Draco for Scorpius to understand the reply had been a lie. He <em>knew</em> his father, after all. He might not know everything he kept locked and lost inside of him, but Scorpius knew when Draco tried to shelter him from the truth.</p><p>"You do, don't you?"</p><p>Draco pressed his lips into a tight line, his jaw ticking as he turned icy silver eyes at his son. "It doesn't matter."</p><p>"It does!" Scorpius hissed, his anger foreign when directed at his father, but justified. "It always matters when you love someone, Dad. You taught me that."</p><p>Astoria had always been aware of where the line was when it came to Draco Malfoy. Even before they were forced into their arranged marriage, she had known him to be a cruel boy amongst the Slytherins. Not so much because he was capable of evil things, but because he craved not to feel the things that made other people weak. She knew how Hermione Granger had changed him, of course; she flooded Draco's insides with love and taught him only strength grew from the emotion.</p><p>It was how he and Astoria managed to raise a sweet, noble boy.</p><p>But Draco never wanted it to be seen. He never wanted to reveal the better parts of himself because he did not think himself worthy of having been touched by Hermione Granger's love. And maybe Astoria was not deserving of love either, but choosing to let it go was a far worse fate than being forced to lose it.</p><p>"Your father thinks you'll hate him for it."</p><p>"<em>Astoria</em>," Draco snarled.</p><p>"He thinks living the rest of his life by himself is the better—"</p><p>"God, Aunt Tori, are you really taking all of these books?" The fireplace inside of the Malfoys' library had burned with emerald flames, but none had noticed it until Darcy Nott was dusting soot out of her long, black hair. She grinned at them, unaware of the indignation bubbling around her relatives as she moved further into the room.</p><p>Behind Darcy, the flames burned again to deliver Theodore Nott. He, however, was quick to clock in on the tension thickening the air around them. Astoria's emerald eyes might have glittered when she saw him, but there was also a wary flash behind them Theodore could recognize anywhere.</p><p>"Nott Estate has a library too, you know?" Darcy continued, running a finger along one of the bookcases before throwing an arm around Scorpius' waist. "Granted, Dad has never been quite invested in it, but you did have an advantage, Aunt Tori. You worked at Flourish and Blotts, after all."</p><p>Scorpius' previous frustration melted away for confusion. He turned to his mother, brow raised. "You did? <em>When</em>?"</p><p>"She worked for Hermione," Darcy replied, still grinning wide. "I asked George if he'd seen Aunt Tori working there centuries ago and he said he got her a job at Flourish and Blotts. Small world, innit?"</p><p>"Theo," Draco called, clearing his throat as he pointed his wand at one of the trunks and it disappeared, "You've come to take my wife away, but can't bother with the heavy lifting? At least do your job, mate."</p><p>Astoria was rolling her eyes again, breathing out the tension that had knotted on her shoulders. Once Theodore registered the shift in the atmosphere, he attempted to smile at the faces now looking at him.</p><p>"Well, someone had to do <em>yours</em>," Theodore returned carefully. "Virgo Labs had a meeting with its newest client, remember? Luna Scamander does send you all of her best, though."</p><p>The arm still around Scorpius' waist tightened just as Darcy poked him hard in the ribs. When they were children, she used to do the same before tackling him to the ground and then standing on his back, claiming herself as the victor of all of his toys. Now, Scorpius did not see Darcy with any intention to throttle him, but her blue eyes did look like she had finally won something.</p><p>Bitterly, Scorpius thought Darcy had finally won his mother from him.</p><p>Rationally, Scorpius thought Darcy had finally won a chance to live in a happy, loving home.</p><p>And Scorpius really couldn't begrudge his cousin for wanting not only her father to be happy, but Astoria too, could he? Darcy always teased Scorpius that he was better than her in every way, but he didn't think so. Not then—and definitely not now.</p><p>"Really progressive stuff here," Darcy said before her arm slipped away from Scorpius. "I'm aware my kid is going to have the entire Weasley clan as relatives, but can they really beat the love and understanding we have here? I mean, come on. They suck compared to us."</p><p>"I don't know, they have dragon trainers, professional quidditch players, and Harry Potter," Scorpius added, trying for a grin, too.</p><p>Darcy gasped. "Not just Harry Potter, but the whole Golden Trio!" She turned to the other adults, narrowing eyes at them. "You three better hurry up and get on the back of some Chocolate Frog collecting cards or you're not meeting my child."</p><p>"That's rather unfair, darling," Theo said, his wand pointing at the remaining trunks of books that would be waiting for Astoria at her new home. "There <em>are</em> thousands more of them. They are bound to have some interesting people among them after all this time."</p><p>"Speaking of," Darcy started, batting her lashes in a way that was all Greengrass, "I asked Freddie and his cousins to meet us at Nott Estate. They're going to help pack up the things Mum didn't set on fire so we can donate them. They should be arriving in five minutes."</p><p>It was odd, yes, but not nearly as uncomfortable as Scorpius had assumed it would be. The truth was out in the open now. It registered to him then that this was the first time the air felt light around them. Before, when the Notts would visit Malfoy Manor, something always hovered over his parents' head. Scorpius had always assumed it was the knowledge that his Aunt Daphne hated her husband and daughter, but now he knew it'd been heartache.</p><p>Resentment.</p><p>Grief.</p><p>Now, as Astoria moved toward Draco and her eyes were bright with relief, Scorpius saw what love was capable of curing.</p><p>It was also the first time he ever saw his parents embrace.</p><p>"You're still my favorite uncle," Darcy told Draco as she rushed over to him once Astoria had moved on to Theodore, their hands clasping tight. "You know that, don't you, Uncle Draco?"</p><p>"Do I?" laughed Draco when he patted her back and she stepped away. "If you ever marry Freddie Weasley, you'll be getting Potter as an uncle. <em>He</em> has a Chocolate Frog card, remember?"</p><p>"Chocolate Frogs are overrated," Darcy called behind her shoulder before following Astoria and Theodore through the Floo. "Uncles with million-galleon companies are best!"</p><p>Scorpius took slow steps toward the fireplace, but his silver eyes lingered on the withering smile on his father's face. There was another truth Scorpius was owed, they both knew that. He was just not sure Draco would give it to him. Not if he thought he was sparing Scorpius from getting hurt like Astoria had alluded to before the Notts arrived.</p><p>If that was the case, Scorpius was not naive enough to believe he had the power to make his father confess. Still, with a fistful of Floo Powder, he said, "I want you to be happy, Dad. You're the best man I know. You deserve a chance at it, too."</p><p>As expected, Draco did not say anything. Instead, he marched over to his son and pulled him into a tight hug.</p><p>
  <em>We will always put your happiness first.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Even above our own.</em>
</p><p>That was the choice Hermione had made. It had to be the one he made, too.</p><p>Draco was not sure how he was meant to survive the last ember of hope losing its light, but he had already managed twenty years of being caught in a free-fall down a freezing, barren abyss. </p><p>What was a lifetime?</p><p>"You just missed Scorpius—" Draco turned from the hearth after the Floo had swallowed his son, silver eyes finding brown just by the entrance of the library.</p><p>Rose Weasley did not immediately walk in; she lingered by the door, glancing around the room to take in its magnitude and all it contained. She had never traveled further than Scorpius' wing of Malfoy Manor on account that he feared she would bump into the ghosts his family had created in the time of war. Although curious to see the manor for all of its ancient artifacts and luxurious details, Rose never pushed him. She knew he was afraid he would lose her if she caught a whiff of the evil that had taken place inside the walls. Rose knew Dark Magic lingered; she had devoured text after text not only for her own education, but for Scorpius' safety once he decided he wanted to be an Auror. She took in everything about it: how it smelt, felt, looked, damaged, and, most importantly, how to heal against it. As she surveyed the room from her distance, Rose did not think the Malfoys' library felt evil.</p><p>"I gather it was on purpose, then," said Draco when he recognized the glint in her brown eyes. It was all Hermione's inquisitiveness reflecting under the fading sunlight.</p><p>Blinking away from the aureate, stained glass of the tallest library window, Rose stepped into the room. There was a satchel hanging from her right shoulder, her hands resting over the bulk of it. "I was actually hoping you could help me with something, Mr. Malfoy."</p><p>The last person Draco wanted to see was Rose Weasley, but he still gestured to the nearest armchair for her to sit. He pressed his lips into a line, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He found his gold coin in the right one and his fingers gripped it tight.</p><p>"It's about history," Rose said carefully as she took a seat.</p><p>He turned away from her, looking behind his shoulder. Even from where she was, Rose could see a crystal bottle with aged amber at the corner of a desk by the furthest wall of the library. Briefly, she wondered if he would Accio it to ease the scowl she caught before he masked it with impassiveness.</p><p>"There are textbooks than can offer better insight," he told her, sitting on the armchair beside hers. He slid his hands out from his pockets, his right balled into a fist. "Most I'm sure you've already read."</p><p>"History books don't always get everything right," she mumbled before pausing. She unzipped the satchel, but did not part the bag open. Instead, she took a deep breath, looking back up at Draco. "I don't want to know about the war, Mr. Malfoy. I want to know what happened after it."</p><p>Draco opened his right palm. His skin was red where he pushed the ridges of the coin into it, creating matching grooves, but he still raised it for Rose to see. "The Department of Rehabilitation for Former War Criminals. That's what happened after the war. Files are confidential, but for the Minister's niece, I'm sure there might be an exception if you want to learn more about the privy thoughts of monsters."</p><p>Rose's eyes narrowed despite feeling taken aback by the sharpness of his words. She cleared her throat and said, "I don't care about your past as a Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy." She then parted her satchel, bringing out an old photo album from inside. "I want to know about Hogwarts. About Eighth Year. <em>Your</em> Eighth Year."</p><p>He recognized the album on her lap.</p><p>Of course he did; even if he tried to mask the surprise and the anger of seeing it by keeping every line of his face cold and unmoving, Rose saw a glimmer of something familiar in his silver eyes. It was the same thing she had seen on her mother.</p><p>It was heartache.</p><p><em>Like two enemies falling in love</em>—that was what Hermione had said back at the Grangers' house.</p><p>"My mum was Head Girl that year," Rose pointed out. "And you were Head Boy, weren't you?"</p><p>"Much to her dismay," Draco said through his teeth, eyes flashing. For a moment, Rose thought he looked exactly as her father had always depicted Mr. Malfoy to be: a complete arsehole. "She tried to get the Headmistress to give the position to Neville Longbottom. She thought he deserved it more than the boy who killed Albus Dumbledore."</p><p>Rose's fingers gripped the edge of the album. "Please, Mr. Malfoy," she returned impatiently. "I know I said history books get almost everything wrong, but they don't fault you for Dumbledore's death. Uncle Harry wouldn't let them. Nor did my mother. She was even the one who told Scorpius you lowered your wand that night when you told him the opposite."</p><p>"Having Harry Potter and Hermione Granger testify in my favor did not make me innocent," Draco told her, his tone raised a level in rage, but the volume of it stayed steady. "Your mother and I weren't friends if that's what you came to ask, Rose. She was a reminder of all the terrible things I'd done. A reminder that happened to live across my dormitory. That's it."</p><p>Looking back down at the album, Rose lingered on the <b>1999</b> engraved on the cover. There were a lot of things her mother never really opened up about; most of them were related to the war she had barely survived, but Rose understood why. Death was never easy to revisit. Yet, when she or Hugo had questions after hearing murmurs from classmates or strangers, or when the books detailed things too inconceivable for them to understand exactly how they came to pass, Hermione would answer with the truth. She would tell them pieces of what happened during the war and what happened after it.</p><p>Except for 1999.</p><p><em>You were Head Girl,</em> Rose had said the summer before her Seventh Year, holding a ruby and gold badge between her fingers.</p><p>
  <em>I was. Now you are.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lorcan Scamander is Head Boy.</em>
</p><p><em>Well, he's very smart, </em>her mother said as she locked the door of Flourish and Blotts with a wave of her wrist. <em>And very responsible, too. He will serve the position right.</em></p><p><em>He's...okay, </em>Rose mumbled bitterly, looking down at her badge. <em>I just thought Scorpius would get it. The Headmaster implied he would.</em></p><p>
  <em>No, I don't think he did. If I recall, Neville said there were several possibilities. </em>
</p><p>Rose scoffed as her mother walked over to where she was sitting on the counter. <em>Fine. I just assumed he would. </em></p><p><em>You </em>wished<em> Scorpius would,</em> Hermione corrected with a laugh. <em>I'm sorry, sweetheart, but not every Head Girl can have her boyfriend as their Head Boy.</em></p><p>
  <em>Well, Mr. Malfoy was yours, wasn't he?</em>
</p><p>Hermione dropped the book Rose had been extending to her. <em>What?</em></p><p><em>Mr. Malfoy was Head Boy,</em> said Rose, a brow raised at her mother's face draining of color,<em> I just assumed pedigree won out with these things. Like Uncle Bill being Head Boy and then Victoire being Head Girl herself. </em></p><p>Hermione cleared her throat, her hands shaking as she retrieved the book that had fallen at her feet. <em>Right. Pedigree. It'd be biased, wouldn't it? </em></p><p>Slivers were what Rose or Hugo got from that year—nothing worth piecing together like a jigsaw puzzle to fully understand how it had shaped Hermione.</p><p>But now Rose had asked herself the question: what happened that year to have her mother rip it out of her life completely and bury it deep beneath the earth for no one to find? If she was being pragmatic about it, of course, Rose could extend Hermione Granger's timeline across a tabletop and put pins in every year since she found out she was a witch. If she did that, Rose could formulate a detailed list of all the major events that happened for each one—except for 1999.</p><p>People often regarded Rose as rather obsessive when facing a challenging new equation, but her mother's words had not left her head since she had said them: <em>Like two enemies falling in love. </em></p><p>With a hypothesis in mind, Rose used a nonverbal to offer Draco Malfoy the photo album. She watched as he hesitated to reach for it, both his hands balled into fists now. When he did accept it, Rose had it open its pages to reveal the pictures tucked into the sleeves.</p><p>"These were mostly taken inside the Head Dormitories, weren't they?" Rose did not expect him to answer. He knew Rose had been Head Girl herself. Although the photographs were decades old, she would be able to recognize the walls. Even after the reconstruction, Hogwarts hardly changed. Instead, she asked, "Were you on the other side of that camera?"</p><p>Draco did not have to look down at the captured moments the album contained. No matter how far into the shadows he had pushed each and every one of them, they were still excruciatingly vivid and blinding. </p><p>He knew them all: it was well past midnight, but Hermione was still curled up in an armchair, her wand holding her hair away from her eyes as she reread a new potions book with modified Calming and Sleeping Draughts, determined to find the perfect one that could help Draco's insomnia. He was on the floor across from her, his Transfiguration homework completely forgotten; he was too busy studying <em>her</em>—studying how she looked in her element, how she looked when she was resolved in saving others. Draco knew she could dive into a million books and still not be able to rescue him from the demons that whispered in his ear, but he wanted to remember her like this.</p><p><em>Draco, </em>she had gasped, startled by the flash of the camera. <em>What are you doing?</em></p><p>
  <em>Preserving you.</em>
</p><p>She rolled her eyes at him. <em>Oh, really? I wasn't aware I was in danger of withering away.</em></p><p><em>Maybe not you. Maybe one day you'll realize you made a mistake in caring about me. Maybe </em>that<em> will wither.</em></p><p><em>I don't make mistakes,</em> she told him confidently, closing the book. <em>Brightest Witch of the Age and all that, remember?</em></p><p>Draco wanted to tell her he loved her—loved how she believed they could withstand tsunami tides and black holes together, but only managed to say, <em>You know what works better than Calming Draughts? You in my bed, Granger.</em></p><p>Then there was a picture of her on a bed, rose petals raining down on her. Draco still remembered what preceded that moment: their first fight as a couple (although they had never referred to themselves as such). Viktor Krum had shown up at Hogwarts. Madam Hooch and McGonagall had invited him to speak to First Years about his Quidditch career and flying techniques; he had been expected to leave as soon as the lesson was done, but he had caught sight of Hermione walking back from the greenhouses, Draco and Blaise walking a few steps behind her. She was meant to meet Draco back in their dormitories, but she showed up two hours later.</p><p><em>I said I'm sorry,</em> Hermione had repeated for the third time, a frown starting to settle on her face when Draco did not look up from his homework. <em>I lost track of time. </em></p><p>
  <em>Don't apologize, Granger. I don't care what you do. Or with whom.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco, don't start—</em>
</p><p><em>Bit of a step up from Weasley, I'll admit,</em> he said, finally looking up at her. <em>Heard Krum wrote an autobiography. I also heard he dedicated a chapter just to you. Did he ask to reminisce in the lonely crooks of the library as an early launch celebration?</em></p><p><em>He's my friend</em>, she hissed. <em>Viktor will always be my </em>friend<em>. But you, you're my—</em></p><p><em>I'm not your boyfriend, Granger, </em>he said through his teeth. <em>At least Krum can give you that.</em></p><p>Of course he had been jealous. Draco had not been blind to the emotion flooding him inside out, burning on the way up to his throat. He was always afraid he was on borrowed time with Hermione, like any second she would remember she deserved more than a broken Death Eater or that someone better would come along, offering light and love instead of the meager scraps Draco held out for her to take. Still, he was more afraid of losing her. No matter how many times jealousy stirred familiar rage inside of him, his soul had been touched by her.</p><p>Draco would always follow where she went.</p><p>Not even an hour later, he had entered her dormitory. She was sitting in the middle of her bed with her arms crossed, the golden flecks in her eyes dark like the sun setting on desert ruins. Devoted as he was to her, Draco approached her bed regardless of her glower.</p><p><em>I am yours,</em> he said, <em>just as you are mine.</em></p><p><em>That doesn't mean you own me,</em> she reminded him sharply.<em> It means I </em>chose<em> you.</em></p><p><em>I know</em>, he assured, his jaw ticking before letting out a breath.<em> I'm just afraid one day you'll realize it was a mistake. Krum and Weasley, they both are reminders of what our reality really is like, Granger. We trap ourselves inside these dorms, making a world of our own, but one day we'll leave Hogwarts—</em></p><p><em>And I'll </em>still<em> choose you,</em> Hermione's eyes were still dark, but her voice was delicate.<em> I don't care for realities that you're not in. I thought you knew that by now. </em></p><p>Draco did not know what love was—real, genuine, unblemished love, but he felt something like it live deep in the atoms that composed his entire being. He wanted to tell her that whatever that was, whatever had blossomed and wrapped around his bones, that's what he felt for her. When he could not find the words, he showered her in rose petals just as delicate, pure, and perfect as her. He then Accioed her camera from the nightstand and took a picture, capturing the moment he'd always remember as the day he absolutely knew he would love her until the end of his days.</p><p>Every photograph in Hermione's album commemorated exactly that—all the little hidden moments that tallied up, securing her name in Draco's very bones.</p><p>Then the marriage contract to Astoria Greengrass surfaced, bringing in their neglected reality to crash down around the universe Hermione and Draco had built inside the Head Dormitories. There were no more sacred, stolen moments under their bedsheets after that; no more pictures for Draco to take after she told him to scrub his bones clean from her and she retreated back into Gryffindor Tower, becoming another ghost that haunted his dreams.</p><p>"It's not me," he chose to say, closing the album so he did not have to see Hermione's face peering up at him like he needed the reminder, like those fragments of time weren't already embedded in his head. "As I said before, Granger and I weren't friends."</p><p>"No, not friends. You skipped that part, didn't you? You went straight to being two enemies who fell in love." At her declaration, Draco lowered the photographs he was trying to hand back to Rose. Again, she saw his stoic mask reinforce around the edges that had threatened to shrivel at her words. "I'm not wrong, Mr. Malfoy, am I? You <em>loved</em> her—"</p><p>Draco stood, the album falling to his feet as he clutched the coin in his hand, pressing the ridges into his skin again as if it would absorb into him. "You should go, Rose. My wife literally just left me for my friend, I'm not stable for stupid conversations right now."</p><p>"<em>Look</em>," she said, her hands shaking as she stood too, trying to summon her courage to keep her steady on her feet and not slink away back to the minute when she decided she needed to unearth the box Hermione had buried. "I wasn't really sure why I came here, Mr. Malfoy. At first I thought it was to prove myself right, that the things my mum hides really do involve you, but being right doesn't change the fact that she still loves you."</p><p>He laughed—cool, cruel, and devastated.</p><p>Rose winced at the sound. Draco Malfoy: Death Eater and documented arsehole. How could her mother have fallen in love with someone like that? Maybe Rose was wrong. Maybe there had been someone else in that Eighth Year that Hermione kept hidden for no one else to find. Rose would go back to her notes, equation, and hypothesis. She would start from scratch to find a more suitable, reasonable answer than <em>Draco Malfoy</em>—</p><p>The quiet, shaking ire that was brewing inside of Rose at having shown up at Malfoy Manor stilled, giving her a chance to find her breath again. When rationality settled over her brain, Rose thought of Scorpius. She saw his beautiful silver eyes, the color of pale moonlight falling through plum skies, the color of a clear, calm river passing through a lush forest. Her love for him lived just beneath her magic, always stirring, always breathing—her love for a boy who was half of the foul man standing before her.</p><p>The man who had taught Scorpius how to love with his entire heart. The man who lived behind masks, but never taught his own son how to shape one to keep the world out because he wanted Scorpius to feel everything—heartbreak, joy, loss, bliss, anger, love.</p><p>The man who had been a boy without a choice. The man who had been a boy forced to hide everything he felt because it could get him killed.</p><p>The man history books claimed to be vile, cowardly, evil, but who Uncle Harry defended.</p><p>The man Hermione defended but never spoke a word to.</p><p>"Not enemies," she whispered to herself, all her variables lining back up. She looked back at Draco and said, "You weren't enemies by Eighth Year. You were two teenagers traumatized by war. And you found solace with each other despite how much she reminded you of all the bad things you'd done. She forgave you and you loved her."</p><p>Draco shoved the gold coin back into his trousers. "Go home—"</p><p>"And she loved you," Rose interrupted him. "Because she forgave you. Because she got to see who you really were. And then—you had an arranged marriage. Scorpius told me your father forced you into it. Is that what broke you two apart? Is that why she married my dad?"</p><p>"<em>Rose</em>—"</p><p>"God, did she marry Dad because she had no other choice? Did she not love him all this time? Did she only stay with him because of me and Hugo? Had she wanted to leave this whole time and we just kept her—?"</p><p>"Rose," snarled Draco, stopping her from drowning in a wave of her own panicked thoughts. "She loved Weasley. That's why she married him."</p><p>Putting her hands on her head, fingers rubbing at her temples to ease the headache she had given herself, Rose processed his words. She knew he had to be right. Her mother was honorable. Loyal. Kind. Hermione Granger wouldn't have married Ron Weasley if she did not think it was the right choice for her.</p><p>It just wasn't true love.</p><p>Not in the way Hermione Granger had loved Draco Malfoy.</p><p>Nor in the way he had loved her.</p><p>When Scorpius had told Rose of his parents' immediate, amicable divorce, she knew her hypothesis seemed sane to consider as truth. She knew Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had had an arranged marriage, after all. Scorpius often dwelled on them not being in love with each other. Rose would always kiss his jaw before pulling him into her arms, saying,<em> but they love you.</em> Even if her own parents had both agreed to marry each other, Rose now understood the bitter aftertaste of knowing they had not been in love. Not really. Not always.</p><p>At one point, she would need the variables that had first split Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy apart, but Rose understood what was keeping them apart now: <em>we will always put your happiness first. </em></p><p>It was what her mother had said in St. Mungo's, brown eyes glistening with tears Rose had thought her anger and resentment had caused. In actuality, Hermione was upholding her promise to make sure Rose would always find herself doused in happiness. Even above her own.</p><p>That meant losing Draco Malfoy.</p><p><em>Again</em>.</p><p>"Must she always be so bloody noble?"</p><p>Draco laughed again. This time, Rose noted, it was not laced with venom intent to destroy light. The mask had withered away, too. "Yes," he said. "Self-sacrificing, honorable Gryffindors. Never quite understood it, but she wouldn't be Hermione without it, would she?"</p><p>"Mr. Malfoy," Rose cleared her throat, finding her resolve once more. "My mother has given up everything for this world—her parents, her well-being, her sanity, her head. She has given up so much for our family, too. I just...I don't want her to keep giving up the things that make her happy for other people."</p><p>He felt his walls of ice form again, instinctively shooting up to hide everything, but they melted when Draco blinked down at the album by his feet. It had opened again, memories flooding out of it with every flutter of Hermione's eyelashes within those photographs.</p><p>"She made a choice," he heard himself saying before he retrieved the album, slamming it shut.</p><p>"Because she thinks it's what <em>I</em> would want," Rose told him, a frown now creasing between her brows. "And of course it is! No offense, Mr. Malfoy, but all of this is fucking weird and maybe I am a silly little girl, but my parents divorcing isn't a good time for me. <em>Still</em>," she took a deep breath, forcing that Weasley red from her freckled cheeks, "I want Mum to be happy. And that means you, Mr. Malfoy. <em>She loves you.</em> And if you still love her too, you'll help her stop being so damn noble and have some of those self-serving Slytherin traits rub off on her."</p><p>The album flew out of Draco's hands. Rose shoved it into her satchel before digging around inside. When she found a scrap of parchment, she zipped her bag closed.</p><p>"What's this?" he asked when the paper was now zooming toward him.</p><p>"The address to Mum's new house," Rose told him. "Find her. And don't let her go anymore, Mr. Malfoy."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. splits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>EDIT: Hi, guys! My best friend commissioned a STUNNING piece for this chapter by Avendell! I have followed Avendell's art for ages and I cried so many tears that she created art for one of my favorite moments of this book! Thank you so much to Luna (the bestest amiga ever!!) and Avendell!&lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p>
<p>Ginny Potter was hovering.</p>
<p>Hermione expected her to be, of course, but she had hoped Ginny had considered that she was an adult and perfectly capable of dealing with her emotions without anyone's assistance. Hermione was, in fact, the most stable out of the lot, but by the way her former sister-in-law came barging into her new house, her office at Flourish and Blotts, or her office in her publishing company, she was starting to think Ginny expected her to have a mental breakdown soon.</p>
<p>"I mean, I don't blame you if you're not all that sad—"</p>
<p>"Gin—"</p>
<p>"He's a right git. I don't know why you agreed to marry—"</p>
<p>"I happened—"</p>
<p>"You know who you should've dated? Oliver Wood. Remember that summer after Hogwarts when you went with me to that party the Harpies had for new recruits? He spent all night talking to you...Yeah, Wood might have been a better choice than Ron. I mean, he ended up owning Puddlemere United. What's <em>Ron</em> got?"</p>
<p>Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "You don't need to bash your brother, Gin. I told you plenty of times it was an amicable split."</p>
<p>"Yeah, all right. I know that's true, but I never can pass up a good opportunity to tear the mickey out of him," said Ginny, grinning into her cup of tea. After she sipped it, she made a face and settled the cup back onto the table like it had offended her. "Merlin, do you have some firewhiskey? I think mine could use a splash."</p>
<p>Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny.</p>
<p>She knew what she was trying to do, after all. Ginny proceeded this same way only three times throughout the years she and Hermione had known each other, but it always ended up the same. With Hermione <em>drunk</em>—drunk and crying, or drunk and yelling. Ginny never minded either reaction so long as Hermione unstoppered all of her emotions to relieve the weight off of her chest.</p>
<p>The first time had been in Hermione's Sixth Year; Ginny had stolen a bottle of Ogden's from the trunk of a fellow Gryffindor and snuck into Hermione's dormitory, offering the bottle and a shoulder for her to cry on after Ron had started dating Lavender Brown. Hermione had cried, but mostly yelled, cursed, and ordered Crookshanks to destroy all of Ron's possessions. The second time had been a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding; Ginny had taken vodka the twins had left behind in their old room, offering Hermione the first drink and listened as she cried about Obliviating her parents so they would not become casualties of a war started by a monster.</p>
<p>The last time had been in 1999.</p>
<p><em>You have to tell me what's going on,</em> Ginny had murmured, her arm wrapped tightly around Hermione's shoulders after she found her in the backroom of Flourish and Blotts, buried between crates of new books and mail orders. <em>I can't help you if you don't tell me, 'Mione.</em></p>
<p>Hermione just shook her head, burying her face deeper into her kneecaps, one hand clutching on to the bottle of bourbon she had summoned from the Leaky Cauldron.</p>
<p><em>You were so happy a few days ago,</em> Ginny pressed on carefully. <em>What happened, huh? You were all aglow. In </em>love<em>, I'd say. Did you have a row with Ron?</em></p>
<p><em>It's not about Ron,</em> Hermione had hissed, finally looking up, brown eyes an unforgiving, swollen red. <em>Please, Ginny,</em> she lowered her voice, hands trembling as she dropped the bourbon to claw at her own chest, <em>Just...Just please take it. Cut out my heart and take it. </em>Please<em>.</em></p>
<p>Ginny pushed Hermione closer against her side, putting another arm around her shaking shoulders. When the backroom drowned with the sound of Hermione's excruciating sobbing, Ginny could only squeeze her eyes shut before her own tears clung to her cheeks, too.</p>
<p><em>Why didn't he tell me? </em>Hermione screamed against Ginny's embrace. <em>Why didn't he tell me he was never meant to be mine? Please, Ginny. Please. Cut out my heart.</em></p>
<p>After, when Ginny had Accioed more bourbon from The Leaky Cauldron, she just watched Hermione drink, her brown eyes losing their specks of gold with every gulp. Ginny never asked—not then, not throughout the years, not even now. But Hermione always saw Ginny studying her, lingering a second or two on her face, trying to spot if she had carved out her whole heart and buried it away, or if she had just cut out the name she did not want embedded on it, like a weed threatening the ability for flowers to grow.</p>
<p>"I'm fine, Ginny," Hermione assured after swallowing back a sigh of frustration with a drink from her teacup. "Honestly. You don't have to worry about me."</p>
<p>"Yes, you certainly look fine," said Ginny as her fingers broke a biscuit into pieces. "Absolutely composed."</p>
<p>"Am I supposed to be devastated?"</p>
<p>Ginny frowned. "Do you think I want you to be? You're my <em>sister</em>." She paused, taking a breath and then flicking crumbs off her fingertips. "Look, Hermione, it was never any of my business because it was <em>your</em> marriage, but I've known for a few years now that you and Ron weren't in love. I won't embarrass myself by making guesses as to why both of you didn't file for divorce sooner, but what I do know is that you stayed. For as long as you could, you stayed. Then when you two do get a divorce, you encourage Ron to start dating but you hide yourself away. Again, it's none of my business, but what the hell are you hiding from?"</p>
<p>
  <em>Why are you here, Hermione?</em>
</p>
<p><em>I don't know why I came, </em>she had told Draco in that stairwell of Virgo Labs.<em> You got in my head</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>You never left mine.</em>
</p>
<p><em>I just wanted to stay with you,</em> she said, meaning it then.</p>
<p>Meaning it now.</p>
<p>"Nothing," said Hermione as she took another sip of her tea, hoping to dissolve the knot of memories that lodged itself in her throat. "I just think Ron deserves to get back out there after I took so much of his time away."</p>
<p>"And he took yours, too," Ginny reminded dryly. "Did he encourage you to get back out there?"</p>
<p>"Ginny, don't start analyzing me."</p>
<p>"I know you're fine about the divorce," she said despite Hermione's warning. "I know you're fine with Ron dating again. But the thing is, while he is out there trying to reclaim himself after years of being married to you, why aren't you doing the same?"</p>
<p>"I don't need to get back—"</p>
<p>"I don't want to see you wasting away again!" Ginny's hands slammed against the table as she stood, deep, cutting brown eyes glaring at Hermione.</p>
<p>Hermione did not flinch at the frustration that flooded the distance between them. After all, she knew Ginny Potter burned like fiendfyre for the people she loved.</p>
<p>With a deep breath, Ginny unclenched her fists and tried to swallow down her irritation. "You're not an idiot, Hermione Granger, so you know that I'm not just talking about your marriage. I know you love Rose and Hugo with everything you have, but you haven't been happy in so long. And I'm afraid that if you retreat into yourself, you'll miss your chance at finding what does make you happy."</p>
<p>"I don't know what that is," Hermione replied with a sigh.</p>
<p>"You're a bloody awful liar," Ginny quipped. "And I'm personally offended you think <em>that</em> was going to convince me you don't know what you're doing with your life. Still," she added, raising a hand as she heard Hermione start to protest, "I'll let it go. The world's barmy right now, all these divorces. At this rate, I'll probably be giving Harry the boot next week."</p>
<p>Hermione raised a brow. "Angelina didn't actually file for divorce, did she? I know she threatened George with it after their backyard blew up with one of his experiments, but I never thought she'd follow through. Despite what she says, she loves him."</p>
<p>"Mad for him, I'd say," snorted Ginny before shaking her head, brushing off her brother's mischievous ways. "I'm surprised you haven't heard. I figured Rose would tell you. Al told me soon as he found out. Scorpius spent two days with us, processing."</p>
<p>"Wait," something like a gasp left Hermione's mouth. Ice licked up her spine, paralyzing her. A tsunami tide ravaged her head, pulling out every moment, every memory from its place. She didn't know how she posed her next question, "Draco left Astoria?"</p>
<p>"Amicable split," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. She stepped away from her chair, unaware of Hermione being dragged down to the unknown, dark depths of the sea. "Let me get that bottle I saw on the mantle and I'll tell you what I know."</p>
<p>Hermione pulled herself up from her chair, her teacup rattling as her fingers gripped the edge of the table.</p>
<p>"I'm not one for gossip, you know, but even I can't deny that—<em>Ah!</em> Fuck."</p>
<p>Hermione turned to the kitchen's entrance as Ginny stumbled back in with the firewhiskey, her auburn brows drawn together as her mouth opened and closed, each time any coherent words failing to form past her tongue.</p>
<p>"What's—?" Hermione's own string of words vanished right into the pit of her stomach when Draco Malfoy came into view.</p>
<p>For a terrifying, euphoric second, she thought her memories had finally overrun the secure barriers she had tucked them behind, flooding out on her kitchen floor for Ginny to see. Hermione lost her breath at the yearning that pushed her back onto her chair, bones shuddering as she resisted the urge to dive into them. To drown in them.</p>
<p>If she had not heard Ginny speak, Hermione might have believed she was imagining him standing before her.</p>
<p>"Malfoy," said Ginny, her composure manifesting itself a lot quicker than Hermione's. Her eyes were flashing with theories Hermione did not want to look at, but she picked up on the careful, polite tone of Ginny's voice as she spoke. "Sorry about your divorce."</p>
<p>"Don't be," Draco replied with a snort, his expression pale, handsome, and impassive. "Astoria certainly wasn't."</p>
<p>A grin slowly tucked itself into the corners of Ginny's mouth. "Shit year for marriages, isn't it? I was just telling Hermione Harry and me might be next at this rate."</p>
<p>Again, Draco snorted. "The Potters? The love story my son's been obsessed with since he became friends with Al? Unlikely. Though, you do have my deepest sympathies for enduring it this long."</p>
<p>Ginny laughed and Hermione found the courage to look up at them. Draco was observing the kitchen like he was trying to find Hermione in the shades of custard-yellow and pea-green its walls were painted with. Even if she was sitting right there, Hermione could understand why he was hesitating to meet her eyes; it had nothing to do with Ginny, but everything to do with her.</p>
<p>Draco was trying to find the version of Hermione that loved him.</p>
<p>The one that had not let him go. Again.</p>
<p>"Maybe you're fine after all, 'Mione," said Ginny, her grin still not dissolving as she set the bottle of firewhiskey next to Hermione's teacup. "Maybe I was overreacting. I should go."</p>
<p>"Ginny, I-I...It's not—" Hermione stuttered, pushing herself up again on unsteady feet.</p>
<p>"No, no. You were right. Besides, you're in good hands. Fellow divorcee and all." Ginny did not bother to stop herself from laughing as she looked from Hermione's growing look of horror to Draco's unbothered expression. "Malfoy, do make sure Hermione puts a little alcohol in her system. She needs to unwind a bit, I reckon."</p>
<p>Draco took a step further into the kitchen to allow Ginny to maneuver out. As she did, behind his back, Ginny let her jaw drop before silent incredulous laughter shook her entire frame, then disappearing with a wave of her wrist.</p>
<p>With her hands shaking, Hermione made a grab for the firewhiskey, pulled off the cap, and took a large gulp. When she pulled away the knot stuck in her throat was on fire, making her cough as the amber liquid sparked even more panic as it traveled down. Trying to catch her breath, Hermione walked to a yellow cabinet to pull out a glass. Firewhiskey splashed against her fingers as she filled the cup, but she still handed it to Draco.</p>
<p>When his wrapped around her wrist, Hermione pulled back to take another swig straight from the bottle.</p>
<p><em>Are you trying to wash away the taste of my tongue, Granger?</em> he had asked when he walked into their shared common room. She was sat in the dark, a copper bottle of tame butterbeer in one hand. It had been twelve hours since he had last seen her. Twelve hours since he had stolen a kiss from her when she had been shouting at him, demanding him to stop riling up other students, demanding that he take care of himself.</p>
<p><em>I don't know what you're talking about,</em> she huffed, pulling herself up as he waved his wrist and the common room was flooded with light.</p>
<p>
  <em>I can remind you if you'd like—</em>
</p>
<p><em>Don't</em>, she hissed, jumping when he took a step closer to her. She might have caught him faltering, his arrogant bravado slipping when she looked just as scared of the ex Death Eater like all the First and Second Years that scrambled out of his way when they saw him. It had to be the only reason why she paused to take a breath, letting her red emotions dissipate before looking at him like he was just another face among the crowd. Like he didn't matter.</p>
<p>Like she had not been observing him with that signature Hermione Granger look: all lovely, flushed cheeks and wide, protective brown eyes flaring with every move he took like at any moment she would have to leap in front of him, saving him from the same darkness he had injected into the very earth.</p>
<p>
  <em>It's not going to happen again, okay, Malfoy? It can't.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Are you sure?</em> he returned, taking another step toward her like the selfish bastard he would always be. He had seen the look in her eye and he wasn't going to turn away from it. Not when he had nothing left. Not when the only real thing he'd felt since the war was standing right in front of him. <em>I taste better than that. Want to try?</em></p>
<p><em>Malfoy,</em> she started to warn, but the bottle slipped from her left hand and she used it to clutch on to his forearm when he was close enough to touch. <em>It's not going to happen again.</em></p>
<p><em>Okay</em>, he murmured, watching with greedy, desperate silver eyes as she killed the last inch that separated them.<em> I won't kiss you again, Granger.</em></p>
<p><em>Good,</em> she breathed, her lips finding his.</p>
<p>"Please," Hermione found her voice, quivering and uncertain, frantic and heartbroken, "Please tell me you didn't leave Astoria because of me. Draco, your son—"</p>
<p>"Is not a child," he cut across her, his fingers gripping onto the glass, knuckles turning white. "And he's not an idiot, either. Not that I feel particularly pleased that Scorpius knew all along his parents weren't in love. Astoria and I did try to hide that as best to our abilities, but I suppose we weren't convincing enough."</p>
<p>Hermione looked down at the bottle of firewhiskey, tempted to take another drink, but she finally placed it on the table. The hand that had been busy clutching the neck of the bottle moved to her hair, tucking loose curls behind her ear.</p>
<p>"It's not your fault, Hermione."</p>
<p>"Isn't it?" she returned sharply. "You were supposed to marry Astoria and have a good life. You <em>promised</em> me you would."</p>
<p>Draco sneered at her before bringing the glass up to his lips, mumbling something under his breath before he took a drink. When he looked back up at Hermione he said, "I promised you I'd be civil. I never promised to love her."</p>
<p>"And what did that cost? Your son's happiness?"</p>
<p>"Don't you fucking dare question how I raised my son, Hermione."</p>
<p>"I'm not!" she yelled, brown eyes full of golden fire. "You forget that I <em>know</em> Scorpius! My daughter's in love with him—I know all about how kind he is, how respectful he is, how loyal he is! You made him with all of your best traits, Draco. I've always seen that. But how do you think I feeling knowing <em>I'm</em> the reason his parents never loved each other?"</p>
<p>Draco resisted the urge to drain the rest of the firewhiskey in one go.</p>
<p>Self-sacrificing, honorable Gryffindors. If he did not love Hermione the way he did, Draco would despise her for being a fucking martyr.</p>
<p>"This isn't just about you," he told her with a steady voice, trying to keep his bitterness from pooling in his mouth. "Or have you forgotten about Theodore Nott? Have you forgotten that Astoria lost someone too when my father forced us to marry? Do you think I was the only one holding on to a past life? Don't take on the weight of my divorce, Hermione, because I promise you you're hardly at fault. My marriage was never going to be more than what it was."</p>
<p>
  <em>You owe me this, Draco.</em>
</p>
<p><em>I owe you everything </em>except<em> for this. Fuck. Are you even listening to what you're asking me? I'll kill her before I ever—</em></p>
<p>Hermione had gripped his chin, her magic manifesting like a Protego Charm around her, red like her rage, red like her pain. <em>You'll try, Draco. You owe me this. If I have to make the sacrifice, make sure it's worth it.</em></p>
<p><em>I'm not asking you to make it,</em> he snarled, tearing her hand from his chin. Instead of letting her go, he tugged at her wrist, flushing her against his body, all that fury, all that misery caressing his. <em>And I'll hate her for it. Do you understand me? I'll fucking </em>hate<em> her, Hermione. And every time I look at her, she'll see it. I won't ever let her forget it.</em></p>
<p><em>Stop</em>, she hissed, pushing her free hand against his chest. <em>Stop trying to be that cruel, vile boy again, Draco. You know Astoria doesn't want this. You know she's losing Nott, too. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>Then don't let her.</em>
</p>
<p><em>You have to try,</em> she said after a minute, a lifetime of memorizing his face before pulling away, tears falling down her swollen, devastated eyes again. <em>Promise me you'll be happy with her. You owe me this.</em></p>
<p>"What's that?" asked Hermione after Draco reached into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of parchment and placing it beside the firewhiskey bottle.</p>
<p>He didn't answer her. </p>
<p>Bringing the glass back to his mouth, Draco took another drink as he circled the kitchen, examining it. If she had been anyone else, Hermione would have assumed his cold gaze was judging the muggle home for its devices, warm, cozy colors, rustic walls, and mismatched dishware visible from inside glass cabinets.</p>
<p>As he studied the dishwasher, Hermione reached for the bit of parchment. Her address scribbled across it did not surprise her, rather the purple gel-pen and penmanship did. She recognized both.</p>
<p>"You talked to Rose," she demanded as she balled the parchment with a fist. "What did you tell her?"</p>
<p>"She came to Malfoy Manor," said Draco, leaning against the crook between the sink and the refrigerator. "She had questions about our Eighth Year."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes widened, panic flashing across them, dimming their specs of gold. "What did she ask? What did you say?"</p>
<p>"She's your daughter, Hermione. What do you think she asked?"</p>
<p>"No," she hissed to herself, blinking away from Draco to the clear view of her living room like she was expecting to find Rose standing there with an accusing glare, disappointed expression, or seething words tearing out past her mouth. "She couldn't have known. I...I've never told anyone."</p>
<p>Draco slipped a hand into the right pocket of his trousers. His gold coin was there. When his fingers grasped it, he said, "I told her we weren't friends. That you were a reminder of all the mistakes I made. I was allowed to give her <em>that</em> truth, wasn't I? It's not like that has changed after all this time."</p>
<p>She turned back to him, a frown settling between her brows. "Why did she give you this?" Hermione raised her fist where the scrap of parchment was wrinkled into a ball. "Why are you here, Draco?"</p>
<p>This time, he did not resist the urge to drink the amber from his glass. He gritted his teeth, letting it burn down his throat, falling deep into the pit of his stomach where his rage, agony, and love was starting to ferment.</p>
<p>Hermione had made a choice.</p>
<p>Draco knew that; even throughout the days he studied the address written across the torn piece of parchment, he had understood that Rose knowing would change nothing. Hermione felt indebted to her children—a mother willing to sacrifice her very heart to ensure their happiness. Who was Draco Malfoy, then, to demand the opposite? Who was he to tell Hermione to be selfish when his lie, his abandonment, his marriage to Astoria Greengrass produced those children?</p>
<p>He loved her more than the magic that lived underneath his skin. More than his own bones. But he had asked her once to change her mind, to not let him go when Lucius Malfoy had his hand around Draco's future, digging nails, drawing out blood as he tore Draco away from all the daydreams Hermione had invented for them under her bedsheets.</p>
<p>"Rose found me to promise her one thing," he said, the defeat loud in the distance between them. "She wanted me to promise I wouldn't let you go again."</p>
<p>
  <em>I love you!</em>
</p>
<p><em>That doesn't matter, </em>she cried. <em>It never really did, did it?</em></p>
<p><em>Please, Hermione,</em> he had gotten on his knees, all pride damned as agony rattled his bones, <em>Please don't give up on this.</em></p>
<p><em>I have to—</em>we<em> have to.</em></p>
<p>"I told her you made your choice. I'm not here to convince you otherwise."</p>
<p>Hermione's hands trembled once more, her lungs desperately searching for air when her gaze found his silver one. There were no tell-tale signs of emotion on any of the lines of his face, but she did not need them. She had learned his eyes. Mastered them. She knew when their rare glitter of sapphire blue shimmered he was genuinely happy, and when they darkened into a navy he was amused. She knew when the gray brightened like moonlight he felt loved, safe, and when it dimmed into pools of iron he was enraged.</p>
<p>She knew when his silver turned to frozen winter rivers he was determined.</p>
<p>Draco was not here to change her mind.</p>
<p>Hermione did not think there was anything left of her heart for it to shatter, but she was wrong. The deformed, raw fragments that remained turned to dust. She almost fell to her knees, frantic to sweep it up into her hands, forcing it together like ash could once again become the structures unforgiving fires burned down.</p>
<p>"Astoria's with Nott now," Draco spoke. "I don't have to stay in Britain anymore."</p>
<p>She expected a cry to escape past her throat, but instead Hermione found herself scoffing at his words. Draco's eyes turned to metal, his fingers clutching the glass again until his bones pushed against his skin, and she wanted to match his ire, flame to flame.</p>
<p>"You bastard," she muttered through clenched teeth, her hand swiping the bottle of firewhiskey from the table. "So you're going to go? Just like when you married Astoria and I had to stay here?"</p>
<p>He glared as her hand shook, her chin barely tilting up as she took a sip from the bottle. "I'm making it easy for you. Isn't that what you wanted?"</p>
<p>"None of this is what I wanted, Draco!" For a second he thought Hermione was going to hurl the firewhiskey at him. She looked down at it too, like she thought she might have the impulse to do so. He almost laughed when she set it back down on the table, wiping her hands at the front of her thin, white sundress had had already envisioned pulling off. "I don't want you to go."</p>
<p>"But you don't want me to stay with you, either. And I won't stay here under those conditions. You know that."</p>
<p>"Is that what this is, then? You're <em>manipulating</em> me—"</p>
<p>"For fuck sakes, Hermione," Draco snarled as he tossed the glass into the sink, shattering when it collided with the metal, "when have I ever been able to manipulate you? When have I ever been confident enough to believe I could persuade you into anything once that fucking brilliant mind of yours has settled on a choice? Or don't you remember that <em>you</em> left me—"</p>
<p>"Because it was the right thing to do, Draco!" she returned just as fiercely, summer eyes scorching like the sun. "I never said it was the easy thing to do, but it was the <em>right</em> one! Your father would have killed Astoria! How would I ever been able to live with myself if that had happened?"</p>
<p>Draco stared at Hermione; she was all untamable curls and wild eyes, every bit the witch he had fallen in love with in his last year at Hogwarts. In the past two decades, he would pull out those stolen, secret moments, studying them under harsh, blinding light so he could continue to be an expert in every look, every breath, every movement Hermione Granger made. Some nights when the demons in his head were too loud to let him sleep, Draco considered the bitter notion that maybe neither of them was who they had been before. Even if he loved her like he was still that seventeen year-old boy with more shadows in his soul than the dark side of the moon, maybe twenty years of distance, pain, resentment, and other lives were enough to turn them into strangers.</p>
<p>Even if her face changed, even if her brown eyes turned into another color, even if her golden, scarred skin turned smooth and unmarked, even if her hair learned the meaning of cooperation, Draco would recognize Hermione in every life. He was certain of that.</p>
<p>Just as he was certain that her logic would always try to overrule her heart.</p>
<p>"I'm not manipulating you, Hermione. I'm respecting your choice," said Draco, his rage turning back into embers instead of flames. "I can't keep doing this. I've loved you for years and that's not going to stop now, but I can't live the rest of my life hoping to catch your eyes across a room or hear an echo of your voice. I have enough memories of you haunting me, I can't add more to the collection."</p>
<p>Clouds of rain flooded Hermione's blazing, brown eyes. She opened her mouth, but only a fragile, shaky breath came out.</p>
<p>"It's better this way," Draco murmured, glancing at the shattered glass in her sink. A nonverbal fit the jagged pieces back together, but that kind of magic could not fix them. He turned back to her, stepping away from his corner to move in the direction of the exit. "You were right, Hermione. You've always been right. I should've accepted that twenty years ago when you made me leave you at Flourish and Blotts."</p>
<p>Draco could not linger for Hermione to find her voice to say goodbye.</p>
<p>He had not tried to be cruel, but he did have enough of those memories to last him the rest of his life. He wanted to leave with what he had—while marked with heartache and anger, those moments of time were beautiful, golden, and delicate because Hermione had been in them.</p>
<p>He did not want to infect them with this harsh truth: Hermione Granger was never meant for Draco Malfoy. Because for a few months in their youth she <em>had</em> been his. She had poured forgiveness in all of the cracks of his soul and took the mangled, hideous thing that was left of his heart and loved it like it was a masterpiece. She had loved all of his damaged pieces like they were hers.</p>
<p>For a few months in their youth, Draco had been hers.</p>
<p>Just as he would always be.</p>
<p>"Draco—"</p>
<p>He had not been aware he was lingering under the soft moonlight breaking past dark, plum clouds. When he opened his eyes, turning back to the sound of Hermione's voice, Draco found her standing beneath the frame of her door. She took a step forward and—</p>
<p><em>Flash</em>.</p>
<p>He blinked, his vision spotting from the light that had burst out of a camera he had not seen in decades. The photograph slipped out and she carefully tucked it under a delicate strap of her dress as she walked closer to him.</p>
<p>"I told you, didn't I?"</p>
<p>Draco clamped down on his teeth when she dropped the old camera and used her hands to press them against his chest, those brown eyes looking up at him like they had broken past hurricanes to glitter the way they did.</p>
<p>"I don't care for realities that you're not in," she murmured.</p>
<p>"Hermione—" His fingers had wrapped around her wrists, trying to pull her away, but she clung on to his clothes. He did not have the strength to stop her warmth from seeping into his bones. "I don't want your guilt. I don't want your sorrow."</p>
<p><em>You can never leave me, </em>she murmured against his skin the first time he had slipped into her, making them one. <em>Even</em> <em>if this gets tough, Draco. You can't leave me.</em></p>
<p><em>I can't now,</em> he assured her as his finger wrapped around one of her curls, his arm holding her tight against him,<em> You're carved into me now.</em></p>
<p>It tore Hermione to pieces to let him go once. She really was not strong enough to do it again.</p>
<p>Her head might be screaming at her to think about Rose and Scorpius, but her daughter had already thought about Hermione. <em>It always matters when you love someone, Mum</em>—those were Rose's words, Hermione's chance to find Draco, but she had been terrified at what it meant. Too caught up, tangled, paralyzed by the restraint that had grown like cancer in twenty years.</p>
<p>When Draco walked out past her door, all Hermione could see was the entire universe slipping away, taking all color, all light, all warmth with him.</p>
<p>"Have me, then," she pleaded, pushing herself closer, further into Draco. Her fingers stopped clinging on to him so her arms could wrap around his waist, burying her face into his chest like she still knew where she fit against his body after all this time.</p>
<p>Draco still smelled like their youth—cedarwood, mint, and traces of something Hermione knew were the pages of her favorite books.</p>
<p>She never forgot it.</p>
<p>For the past twenty years, Hermione has been chasing the smell like it would lead her to him.</p>
<p>And it had.</p>
<p>The day she sought him out in Virgo Labs, she had meant to go to Flourish and Blotts, but she had picked up the scent, her mind flooding with Draco's face, eyes, mouth, tongue, hands—when she caught her breath after apparating, she was standing in front of his company. She knew then what she knew in this very second: twenty years or several lifetimes could have passed them by, but Hermione knew she would always find Draco Malfoy in every single one.</p>
<p>"I am yours," she vowed, her heart threatening to break out past the bone and skin to land in Draco's hands. She looked up at him, at those silver eyes that were a shade that colored her best memories. "Just as you are mine. Remember?"</p>
<p>Draco swept her up in his arms and she wrapped her legs around him.</p>
<p>Before his lips crashed against Hermione's, she breathed life into him when she whispered, "And I will always choose you."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. endings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Wait—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy felt Freddie’s fingers reaching for her elbow, reeling her right into his chest. She had taken a deep breath in hopes to settle the magic stirring just beneath her skin, fueled by resentment and heartache, but upon meeting his warm, brown eyes she felt a wave ripple out of her. Instead of magic, it was a sob she had been holding in since before they apparated into the foyer of Nott Estate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed her further into him, not even wincing when Darcy’s nails sunk into his flesh, clinging on to him as she cried. He ran a gentle hand up and down her spine, brushing his lips at the top of her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I just want you to meet him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A snort, then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I doubt you do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t disown you—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You traded me for </span>
  </em>
  <span>Astoria—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You gave me to her, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Darcy hissed as she stood from her seat, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Years ago, Mum, you let Aunt Tori become my parent. I never asked for that. I wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>you</span>
  <em>
    <span>. I wanted you to love me the same way she loved Scorpius. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Darcy paused to catch her breath, her glare dissolving into something mirroring the melancholy she felt inside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Could you have ever loved me that way?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne reached for her teacup, her pale, perfectly-painted expression void of any sentiment. Darcy saw her mother’s intent to keep her silence, but Tracey Davis-Flint cleared her throat before biting into a plump raspberry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My answer is still no. I won’t do it. If that’s why you’re here, Darcy, I suggest you take your bleeding heart and—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not here to manipulate you, Mum,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Darcy said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry the trauma you’ve caused me doesn’t pair well with your breakfast, but I truly didn’t come here to fight. I’m aware I can’t dissuade you from being an unforgiving cow, so I just wanted you to have this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When her daughter’s hand smacked against the glass table, rattling the expensive porcelain tea set, Daphne refused to look down at the photograph. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop blaming Dad and Aunt Tori for not being happy. Stop blaming me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>From across her mother’s garden, she caught Freddie’s eye, giving Darcy the courage to add, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t hold on forever, Mum. If you want to keep me...If you want to know him, make the choice. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’ll come around, love,” Freddie whispered into her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy clung on tighter. “I’ve been waiting all my life for that. What if it never happens?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then she’s a fool,” he murmured, gently pushing her back a few centimeters so he could look into her sapphire gaze. Freddie’s thumb wiped at the tears on her left cheek. “You’re the whole world, Darcy Ava Nott. Please never let your mother’s damaged heart make you think otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More tears fell past her lashes, but Darcy swallowed back another sob threatening to erupt from within her when laughter echoed from down the hall. She wanted nothing more than to tuck herself against Freddie’s chest, close her eyes and let the sound of his good, forgiving heartbeat cure what ailed her, but he tenderly kissed her lips before leading the path to the drawing room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite wanting to wallow in yet another disastrous interaction with her mother, Darcy knew she could not afford to waste any more time on her. Maybe she would always continue to hope that one day Daphne Greengrass would learn to love her right, but Darcy had discovered firsthand that motherhood needed to be cultivated by more than birthing a child. There had to be love, vulnerability, strength, and patience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There had to be selflessness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s got peas in your hair—” Darcy heard her father before she saw him. She and Freddie were coming up to the threshold when she tugged him back a step so she could observe the scene. She marveled at the laughter brightening her father’s blue eyes, watching as he cleaned the mushy vegetables from her Aunt Tori’s silky, blonde hair. “He could upturn the whole bowl on your head and you wouldn’t care, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria laughed, too, as she continued to let Theodore use a napkin against her tresses. “He’s just having a bit of fun. Aren’t you, sweetheart? You’re having a bit of fun with your nan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or maybe he just hates peas,” Theodore offered, tossing the stained napkin onto the coffee table in defeat. He waved his hand over Astoria’s head, wandless magic making her immaculate from head to toe again. “Mind you, he did eat a few spoonfuls despite that. I reckon he deserves pudding. Isn’t that right, Greenie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Darcy laughed when a </span>
  <em>
    <span>smack</span>
  </em>
  <span> echoed across the drawing room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see this abuse?” Theodore called to his daughter when he turned towards the door at the sound, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “All it took was a year for her true colors to come out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our grandchild’s name is Tristan,” Astoria huffed as she bounced the infant on her knee, handing Theodore the bowl of mashed baby food. “After hours of labor Darcy endured, the least you could do is call him by the name she gave him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could,” Theodore was laughing again, “but it doesn’t rile you up as much as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Greenie</span>
  </em>
  <span> does.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria narrowed emerald eyes at him, but her reprimand was cut at the roots when Theodore leaned in, pressing a kiss on her mouth. She wanted to bite his tongue for his cheek, but she ended up smiling against his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled back just as Tristan let out a loud, happy giggle and Darcy protested about elderly indecency. Theodore was smirking as he pulled away from Astoria, but at a better inspection of his approaching daughter, it disappeared into a glower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You went to see Daphne,” he concluded through gritted teeth as she blinked red, glistening eyes away from him. “I’ve told you a thousand times—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is she?” interrupted Astoria, maneuvering Tristan onto Theodore’s lap. She knew that upon having their grandson’s wide, emerald eyes look up at him, arms waving to grab at his clothes as more delighted laughter burst out of Tristan, Theodore’s frustration with Darcy did not stand a chance to properly solidify.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> As expected, Theodore let out a breath before summoning a plush bear from the mountain of toys littered across the drawing room floor. He rattled it, smiling as Tristian gasped, small, brown hands clapping together at the new entertainment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s fine,” Darcy scoffed, slumping down on an armchair as Freddie sat beside her father and their son. “I didn’t stay long to talk. I just wanted her to have one of the pictures Uncle Blaise took of Tristan.” Then, with a smaller voice, she continued, “I don’t know why I bother to keep her updated on him. He’s almost seven months. If Mum cared, she would’ve met him—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daphne will come around, darling,” Astoria started, leaving Theodore’s side to walk over to Darcy. She took her hands, pulling her back up to her feet so she could wrap her arms around her. Darcy let out a shaky breath, embracing her aunt like she was still that lonely little girl in need of motherly affection. “I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In her same quiet tone, Darcy said, “Mum’s not going to sign the divorce papers, Aunt Tori. She reminded me of that before I left. Maybe Dad </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> have his solicitor—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will not make her,” Astoria said, smiling despite the sad expression on her niece’s face. From his seat, Theodore covered Tristan’s ears to let out a curse word that made Freddie grin. “Even if she were to agree to the divorce, Theo and I do not need to be married. We are together now, the rest is just details.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad doesn’t seem to agree,” teased Darcy. “I tend to find him looking at Madam Malkin’s ceremonial robes whenever he stops by Diagon Alley for lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theodore scoffed as Freddie took Tristian into his arms. “Madam Malkin’s happens to be a safe distance from Weasleys’ Wheezes,” he defended. “I would pop around Flourish and Blotts more often, but I’ve caught Malfoy and Granger in one too many compromising situations to feel safe stepping a toe in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not coming to the signing, then?” asked Freddie. “The whole family’s going to be there. Not to mention you helped Uncle Charlie make the book a reality.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rubbish. His research had nothing to do with me. Virgo Labs just threw gold—” Upon catching the warning glint in both Astoria and Darcy’s eyes, Theodore quickly changed his trajectory to say, “All the Weasleys in a bookshop run by Hermione Granger? Wouldn’t miss it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie did not lose his grin as he stood, hoisting Tristain on to his hip as the latter continued to shake the plush toy his grandfather had given him. “We better be off, then. Rose is making us have a final robe fitting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The wedding’s a week away. I thought the robes were sorted by now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, some of us gained weight,” Darcy huffed at her aunt’s question, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, my body did make and carry an entire person while she and Scorpius took on hiking and yoda—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yoga. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Freddie amended quickly when Darcy glared at him. “You’re perfect, of course, but it has nothing to do with you. Hugo had another growth spurt. Weasley genes and all that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All eyes turned to the ray of sunshine that was Tristan Weasley-Nott. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I’ve said this multiple times, but can you imagine squeezing this little monster out? Had I known, I would’ve mastered the Contraceptive Charm before shagging a Weasley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theodore grunted, shaking his head as he pointed a finger at the Floo. “Out now, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t hear you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, old man,” Darcy declared with a smirk, reaching up to kiss her father on the cheek just as Freddie was crossing the Floo with their son, emerald flames taking them from Nott Estate. “You too, Auntie A! Oh, and thanks for watching Tristan!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria waved as Darcy walked through the Floo, still laughing loudly at the look of repugnance on Theodore’s face. The smile Astoria had held on to slowly withered as she turned to look at him. Her soul, ever half of him, ever composed by his particular shade of cobalt and strength of his touch, hummed at Theodore’s presence, encouraging her heart to chant his name like a prayer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wanted to listen to it, to get lost in the exquisite sound, but instead found herself murmuring, “Do you think Daphne will ever forgive us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theodore turned from the flames burning their normal red and orange hues. He knew Astoria wanted to hear the same faith she gave Darcy repeated back to her, but he knew Daphne just as well as she did. And while Astoria held on to childhood memories of her sister, he had been married to the estranged version of her that time and jealousy produced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t give up on her, Theo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he replied. “And you’re a better person than either of us for holding on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wanted to tell him that a better person would feel remorse for taking her sister’s husband, but there was a voice in Astoria’s head that sung </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine, mine, mine</span>
  </em>
  <span> every time she looked at him. For twenty years she had attempted to warp the sound to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers, hers, hers, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it never let itself be molded and defiled in such manner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet, despite being capable of waiting eons for Daphne to remember that Astoria adored her, she was no longer willing to waste a second loving Theodore from the shadows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you ever think about it?” he asked quietly, his fingers gently wrapping around Astoria’s wrist before dipping into her palm. “About the family we could’ve had?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She squeezed his hand, grief in her emerald eyes for a life and all of its possibilities that had been taken away from them because she once had been forced to bury him in the dark corners of her mind. “Yes,” she confessed. “All the time. Especially when you had Darcy. I thought about a little girl that could have been ours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We'll have a son</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he once murmured against her chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses further down, the shades of his childhood bedroom letting in summer sun,</span>
  <em>
    <span> duty demands it, of course. But we'll have a little girl, too.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is that so? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Astoria had whispered, her hands running through his disheveled, dark hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We'll call her Artemis. Or Charlotte.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Or Theodora.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That can be her second name,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Theodore had agreed instantly at her quip, nipping at the skin of her naval until Astoria let out a giggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Unlikely,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she had said, throwing a leg around the side of his hip, laughing and squirming again as he tried to sink his teeth against her flesh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We'll call her Ava. Like my mother.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She'll look like you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he whispered.</span>
  <em>
    <span> One day, after we've won, we'll get married. And we'll have a little girl that looks like you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s mental, isn’t it? To mourn something that might have not even happened at all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theodore's fingers slipped out of her hand, tracing back up to her wrist, up her elbow, until they were pressed against her left cheek. He almost forgave himself for the sad glimmer in her gaze when she nestled further into his touch, always searching for his warmth and the feel of him like it could erase the lonely, cold nights she had for twenty years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it have to remain an unanswered question?” He tipped her chin up so their eyes could meet. “I know your stance about us getting married, but can’t we still have the other things we wanted together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria opened her mouth, but only a shaky breath came out. She started searching the lines of his face and the blue in his gaze to find evidence that she had interpreted his words wrong. Ever the resolute man, she only found unconcealed truth etched in everything that was Theodore Nott.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to have a baby?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know we have Scor and Darce,” he said after she found her voice, “and they’re perfect, even if we didn’t sire either of them together, but I still think about Theodora</span>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite wrinkling her nose in distaste at the name, Astoria managed a laugh that was somehow a sob, too. The grief in her eyes evaporated, dripping surprised joy down her pale cheeks. She could not form any words again, not with Theodore smiling at her like he had in their youth, back when he truly, deeply, wholeheartedly believed that he could bring the stars down and put them at her feet. Throughout the years, he had burnt his hands trying to do so, only breaking off pieces of the same constellations Astoria named her son after, but she never forgot Theodore’s promises. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She never forgot that their love blazed brighter than those stars.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria reached up to grab onto his face, pushing herself closer as his arms wrapped around her middle. “Are you absolutely sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> never had a problem with Theodora—” He broke out into laughter when Astoria pinched the sides of his jaw. “Of course I’m sure, Tori,” he told her when her hands started to tremble. “I wanted everything with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rose up on her toes, her forehead touching his as she closed her eyes, taking in a breath. “We have everything now. Even if it doesn’t look like how we wanted it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theodore kissed her nose before ducking down, lightly placing his mouth lightly on the side of her throat. “I know,” he murmured against her delicate skin. “And I’m happy. And I will continue to be so if we live out the rest of our lives this way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Will you marry me today, Tori?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Has Daphne signed the divorce papers yet?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Theodore huffed, his arm tightening around her waist as he reeled Astoria into his side, her cheek coming to rest over his bare chest. He traced fingertips over the smooth expanse of her back, saying,</span>
  <em>
    <span> but I can always make her. I’ve told you this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria looked up, rolling her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You know I won’t—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, I know. And while I’m sure you </span>
  </em>
  <span>think</span>
  <em>
    <span> you’re doing the right thing, we are technically living in sin.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve never been a holy man, Theodore Nott.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirked, his hand sliding down her spine, disappearing into the bedsheet that obscured her naked flesh from him. When she bit his collarbone, he snorted, his fingers caressing back up the original trail they had left.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I dreamt of giving you more,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he found himself whispering despite his teasing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The moon, every star, the entire universe at your feet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fifth Year Tori wanted that—the whole world—but when I lost you...I know firsthand what that’s like. Maybe Daphne will never give up your name, and maybe I’ll never really forgive myself for it, but if this is all we get, then I’ll be happy, Theo. I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am</span>
  <em>
    <span> happy, I promise. What’s a name when I finally have you back, anyway? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he then said, squeezing her waist. “I shouldn’t have alluded that I needed to fulfill old promises. We’re together, our children are happy, we have a grandson—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria gripped his face a little too tightly as she pushed herself forward, mouth colliding against his. Theodore pulled her off her feet, kissing her just as hungrily, just as desperately, like any moment he would return to a life without her and he had only seconds to relish her taste. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would always let him have her—she belonged to him, every inch of her skin had his fingerprints to prove it, but Astoria broke away from his greedy, devoted hands to say, “Don’t scorch your fingers trying to bring me down constellations anymore, Theo. You are enough—this life is enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is everything,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her lips softly, “but when we find each other in our next life, promise me one thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she scoffed, but wrapped her legs around his hips, “We’ll have a little girl that looks like me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And her name will be Theodora.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astoria’s tongue started slipping out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Theodore swallowed the objection, one hand pushing the hem of her dress up her thighs as the other pressed against the small of her back, holding her in place. As he stumbled to the couch, she felt him grin against her lips—he knew if he got down on his knees, worshipping her like she was the deity that created the universe, she would give him anything and everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In every lifetime to come.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>X</b>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you! Be safe out there! And remember, a dragon’s only as good as its trainer!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione rolled her eyes as the last two patrons of Flourish and Blotts turned back around, pressing a kiss on each side of Charlie Weasley’s face before giggling and gliding out past the door. She was quick to flick her wand over the blinds of the windows, preventing the lingering people of Diagon Alley from looking inside her shop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Such lovely witches, aren’t they?” added Charlie as he stopped waving, turning back around to face the small huddle of family with a giant, happy smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George snorted into his bottle of butterbeer. “Mate,” he started, “you do realize that no one that came to your book signing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> interested in your dragon research?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course they were,” Charlie told his brother, auburn brows pulled together now. “They’ve been actively pushing for the release date for the past three months.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, because you came out with that shirtless calendar—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was fundraising for the new sanctuary—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, please! Malfoy and Nott pay for the—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dragons are fascinating, misjudged creatures that—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hagrid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That still doesn’t change the fact that, while yes, they bought your book, most of these fanciful witches and wizards brought your naked calendar for you to sign!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie gaped at George for a tensed second before turning to look at Hermione. She was now standing with her back pressed against Draco Malfoy’s chest, one of his arms wrapped possessively around her middle. While the rest of the group was smirking alongside George, clearly amused by the things Charlie always seemed to miss, he could always count on Hermione—and to an extent Draco—to be impartial with her views.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He groaned when he saw both slightly annoyed, but nonetheless entertained by George’s comments. “Really?” asked Charlie, slumping against Ginny. “Zabini convinced me it was a good marketing strategy for the sanctuary and the book. I didn’t think the bloody calendar was going to compromise my work!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weasley, don’t pretend to be oblivious to the fact that Blaise has been trying to get you out of your clothes since the first day he met you,” said Draco with a leer. “And if memory serves me, you practically put the camera in his hands.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to mention you fancy the bloke, Uncle Charlie,” Hugo added as he descended from the level above, a stack of books tucked under his chin. “Don’t deny it, either. Scorpius and I walked in on what would’ve been a traumatizing experience just last week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione scowled at Charlie’s direction, but before she could lecture him on the matter, Draco said, “From a business standpoint, the provocative photoshoot was an easy, smart way of racking in revenue and press before the official book launch. You sold almost half a million copies in just pre-orders.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And your research is impeccable, of course,” Rose offered, smiling kindly at her uncle as he flushed red. “It’s comprehensive, thorough, and unbiased. Right, Mum?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a sigh. Draco’s arm around her tightened slightly in an attempt to convince her to let go of her displeasure. “Of course,” she conceded after a moment. “The book is exceptional, Charlie. A couple of shirtless photographs isn’t going to change that. Besides, Flourish and Blotts received orders for your book by </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> magical schools for their Care of Magical Creatures classes next year. You’ll be responsible for students learning about dragons and seeing them the same way you do. This,” she pointed to the poster hanging above the counter of the shop advertising Charlie’s book, “is a huge accomplishment. Be proud.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie snorted as he looked up at the poster—he had on all of his clothes, all black, tight leather, as he sat poised on top of a magnificent Antipodean Opaleye. When Poster-Charlie aimed a wink, Real-Charlie felt another flush of red crawl up his neck and to his face. He summoned George’s butterbeer toward him, muttering promises of retribution against Blaise Zabini before taking a swig from the bottle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“While I’ve always been keen to watch my brothers be idiots in love or lust,” Ginny started, pushing herself up from against a bookshelf, “I’ll need a proper drink and meal for this sort of entertainment. The Burrow, anyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought Dad claimed the Burrow after the book signing?” Hugo inquired, a brow raised. “He was going to introduce his girlfriend to Nan and Grandad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I said, keen to watch my brothers be idiots in love or lust,” repeated Ginny, smirking instantly. “And Ron’s a whole lot of both right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scorpius slipped a hand into Rose’s when her nose wrinkled at the reminder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Catching this, Hermione asked, “What’s wrong with Pansy Parkinson?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apart from the obvious loss of self-respect when she started dating Weasley after Scor and Rose’s rehearsal dinner two weeks ago?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Draco’s got a point,” Rose interrupted Scorpius’ would-be reprimand. “I mean, not the dig against my dad, but this whole thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> odd. I didn’t even think he tolerated her. When we hired her catering company, Dad almost had an aneurysm when he claimed she was charging us a ridiculous amount because I was his daughter. He swore he’d have her arrested.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hugo looked up from his rucksack, all of his books disappearing effortlessly inside. “Food is their love language,” he said, rolling his eyes like they were all being thick on purpose. “How are you lot missing this? The first time Pansy baked those sample mince pies, Dad was hooked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, so it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a love potion,” deduced Ginny at once. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George and Charlie laughed just as Hugo and Rose glared. Draco and Scorpius remained silent, knowing better than to antagonize Hermione Granger’s children. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Stranger things have happened,” Ginny continued before flashing her smirk at Draco and Hermione’s direction. “And if Ron and Parkinson are moving faster than the snitch out of Malfoy’s reach when playing against Harry, then you two better hurry up and get married before them, Hermione. I’m serious. It’s been a year today. Say yes to the git and we can have you married first thing tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” George hissed, throwing the cap of his stolen butterbeer at Ginny. “You wait until you’re good and ready, ‘Mione. Maybe around Christmas time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or next Spring?” supplied Charlie. “Think of how nice the weather will be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione pulled out of Draco’s embrace when a nonverbal brought a book from one of the nearby shelves into her hands. She stomped over to George, smacking him hard on the chest before moving on to Charlie. He scrambled behind Ginny, trying to dodge the thick book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“George started the wager,” Charlie accused immediately. “Beat </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose reached out to yank the thick text out of her mother’s hands. Hermione turned to her with a look of betrayal that made Rose snort. “Not that I’d ever advocate for anything Uncle George promotes, but when </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you going to marry Draco, Mum? I didn’t solve the mystery of your tragic romance so you two can simply cohabitate. It’s rather insulting, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And weird,” mumbled Scorpius, wincing before Rose even decided to elbow his ribs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re killing me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had groaned, closing his eyes as Rose ran comforting fingers through his blonde hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My parents are actually killing me. I mean, first it was Mum and Uncle Theo. Now Dad and Hermione? Please, Ro. Make it make sense. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Believe me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she sighed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not all that thrilled about it, either. Still...Can you imagine how painful it must’ve been for them, Scor? I know they eventually found a way to pull through, but it sounded a lot like surviving rather than living. And I can’t judge Mum for it. Not when I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’d burn this world down if they kept me from you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scorpius opened his eyes, catching the way moonlight pouring through his bedroom window illuminated Rose’s face. He loved the wrinkle of her nose when she was being righteous, when passion burned in her blood, but he especially adored when her brown eyes glittered like amber when compassion filled her heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to be angry—I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am</span>
  <em>
    <span> angry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told her with unfiltered honesty,</span>
  <em>
    <span> but at the same time, I love my parents too much to not want them to be happy. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose’s fingers slipped out of his blonde hair, slowly making way to rest against his jaw. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You can be both, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You can be both and still be a saint for being reluctantly okay with all of this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How are you coping better than me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Scorpius muttered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m supposed to be the level-headed one.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scoffed, pinching his jaw before saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>If given the choice, I’d still want my parents together. But I already had that and it didn’t make Mum whole. I figure it doesn’t have to make sense, it just has to make her happy. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you have our blessing, of course,” Scorpius was quick to reassure, his fingers wrapping around Rose’s elbow before sliding back down to take a hold of her hand. He brought it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss over the heirloom on her finger that Astoria gifted her once she removed Malfoy from her name. “You’ve been in love for twenty-one years now. Don’t let another year pass—time is never guaranteed, remember? Get married.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione reached over, putting a hand on both Scorpius and Rose’s cheeks. “One day,” she promised, brown eyes warm and comforting when gazing at them. “Right now the only wedding Draco and I care to make happen is your own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One more week and the Malfoys become part of the Weasley family,” Charlie had his grin back. “If you and ‘Mione do decide on a Christmas wedding after all, Draco, I’m sure Mum will be happy to knit you one of our famous jumpers for the occasion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to remind you one last time, Weasley,” Draco started with a lazy drawl, but his silver eyes still narrowed in distaste, “I’m the one that finances your dragon sanctuary and independent research. Don’t piss me off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Weasley members turned to each other for a single second before erupting into laughter. To Draco’s annoyance, Hermione and Scorpius joined in, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mate,” said George, “just admit that you like our family—for the exception of Ronniekins, but that we can understand seeing as he married the love of your life, had children with her, then broke your nose once he found out about you and Hermione, leading to a very tense month when she and Hugo yelled at him for his behavior, threatening him with curses I’m absolutely positive they picked up from one of the old scary books in Malfoy Manor’s library—wait, where am I going with this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny pushed herself up to her toes to smack her brother upside the head. “I think it’s time we go. We’ve imposed long enough on Hermione and Malfoy’s anniversary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t an imposition,” Hermione assured. “Charlie’s book was scheduled for release on this day before Draco and me—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Out. Now. Come on,” interrupted Draco, waving his wrist so the door of Flourish and Blotts opened, disagreeing completely with Hermione’s sentiment and would-be invitation for them to hover even longer. “Children, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Draco—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The beginning of Hermione’s reprimand over his rude behavior disappeared from her tongue when she tasted his. The door had barely closed, locked, and warded behind their family when he was snaking a hand into her wild curls, his mouth finding hers like he had gone a lifetime without her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing was, Draco had—they </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> had gone too long surviving off only memories to pass up the real thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although Hermione found she was a tad more sensible about the ordeal, about feeling desperate, eager, excited, and overwhelmed about making up for lost time, she also found that she could not begrudge Draco for any of his onslaughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not when his hands on her felt like heaven. Not when his mouth on her was uncontainable bliss. Not when his love often brought him to his knees for worship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not when the only religion she believed in was the feel, taste, and sight of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remember the first time you told me you loved me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hermione asked in a soft murmur, looking up from where she toyed with his too-big ring on her finger, the Malfoy crest gleaming under white light. His eyes were that color, too, all luminescence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You said I was carved into you. But marks fade over time,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she trailed a fingertip to his left forearm, his sleeve covering a tattoo with undefined edges and lines, like a rogue watercolor stain, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and we’ve remained. You weren’t carved into me, Draco, you grew around my bones until everything inside of me belonged to you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If there is light inside of me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said, words crisp and strong, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s because you put it there, Hermione. Even in the years when I lost you, you remained a beacon. You’ve been embers, wildfire, and now the sun. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And when the sun burns out, I will love you through the darkness and the cold,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she vowed.</span>
  <em>
    <span> In every lifetime.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have something for you,” she whispered over his mouth, a hand on his chest pushing him back just a centimeter or two away from the electrifying warmth of her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco slid his hand from her knee up to her thigh, greedy fingers leaving trails of desire beneath her skirt. “I don’t like it,” he teased, his knuckles brushing the lace of her knickers. “Take them back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione laughed, tossing her head back. He sounded like he was seventeen again, eager to remove every one of her offending articles of clothing. Heat rushed up to her neck as Draco took the opportunity to nip at the exposed flesh; she did not only blush because of the surfacing memories of their youthful, naked explorations, but at the fact that even at their age Draco still craved her like the tide needs the moon to rise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could have let him continue tracing his tongue across the shell of her ear, one hand gently wrapped around her throat, but Hermione pushed him back again. As Draco growled at the transgression, she used a nonverbal to summon a small package wrapped in crushed black velvet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s this?” he asked as he took it mid-air. “A key to the shop? You know, I’m still not satisfied with the times I’ve shagged you in one of the aisles. It doesn’t quite live up to our missed romp opportunities at the Hogwarts library—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s arrogant grin withered when the package opened. He stared at it, every line of his face trying to settle the commotion his flashing silver eyes were unable to hide. Then, a second or maybe an hour later, Hermione watched as his thumb and index finger cautiously retrieved what laid among the velvet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a gold coin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whereas the sobriety chip in the pocket of his trousers was carved with the Ministry of Magic emblem, an X on each scale to represent the twenty years Draco Malfoy had been repenting for his sins as a criminal of war, the one in his hand was far from a reminder of that past life. The gold coin gripped between his fingers was embedded with a striking snake twisting around the outer circumference, eating its own tail. Engraved in the middle was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>H</span>
  </em>
  <span> and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>D</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouroboros,” Hermione spoke softly, making Draco blink back up at her. She gently traced a fingertip over the coin. “Different cultures have different meanings for it, but I like the concept of renewal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and me,” said Draco, looking deep into her summer eyes as his palm engulfed the coin, “starting over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and me,” she murmured with a sweet, devoted smile, “finding each other in every new life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco pressed his hand against his chest, right over his heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Often, he used the Ministry’s coin as a tether to a reality where he was a monster that deserved to be plagued by the ghosts and nightmares that haunted the shadows of his mind and manor. The same reality where he was not worthy of Hermione Granger because </span>
  <em>
    <span>toujours pur</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sanctimonia vincet semper </span>
  </em>
  <span>were a darkness that devoured anything with a light. Existing in that reality </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>—but it was his penance, Draco knew that. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>accepted</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. He would squeeze the Ministry’s coin until his flesh was red and imprinted with the emblem to remind himself what he was mourning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was still a monster and wasn’t entirely deserving of Hermione’s love, but with her new coin over his heart, Draco knew this reality was different. There were still shadows and ghosts, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel now, beckoning for him to forgive the darkness and move forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s real gold, too,” said Hermione, the adoring expression on her face melting into a smirk reminiscent of a true Malfoy. “Melted down from a medal I got after the war. Fitting, I think. Seeing as I helped saved this world and you saved me from what came after.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco brought this coin up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to it before slipping it into the left pocket of his trousers. In the right, he pulled out the Ministry’s and extended it out for Hermione to take.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to keep it,” he told her when she observed it from between her fingers. “And although you already knew this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> how long I’ve loved you for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione kissed the coin too, her brown eyes never straying from his face. Then, with a quiet laugh, she said, “You realize we ended up exchanging anniversary gifts, anyway? Even when we said we wouldn’t make a fuss about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That isn’t an anniversary gift,” Draco huffed, pointing a finger at the Ministry coin. “Don’t disrespect me. I’ve obviously disregarded </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> no-gifts rubbish for a surprise. Which reminds me, I’ll need you to be free all of next week. We might have an international portkey to grab then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite rolling her eyes at Draco, she wrapped her legs around his hips, reeling him even closer. He steadied one hand on the counter where he had placed her before, leaning over. “Do you think we should tell everyone?” she asked in a breath over his lips. “About us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” said Draco. “But if we give it a little more time, Rose will have already deduced it and let everyone in on our secret.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re that obvious, aren’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Embarrassingly so, Mrs. Malfoy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Hermione said, her teeth gently nipping at Draco’s bottom lip. His hand slipped beneath her skirt again just as a bit of wandless magic dimmed the lights of Flourish and Blotts. Before devouring his mouth after a lifetime of being hungry for him, she added, “Let the world know I’m yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Marry me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco whispered against her naked flesh, pressing a kiss on her left collarbone as he paused on top of her. The words had slipped out, drunk by the taste, feel, aroma of her; it had only been a few hours since she met him under the moonlight, choosing him, but he had been carrying those words for decades. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At one point in this life, Hermione, be my wife.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Ministry opens in two hours,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she said, forcing her eyes to look away from the magnificent sight that was Draco Malfoy bare and connected to her. There were faint traces of orange, morning light peeking through the curtains of her bedroom. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s do it then.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Today?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right now if we could, but I can wait two hours. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco laughed, nipping at her shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What to do until then?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione hooked her leg over his hip, pushing him further into her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Use your imagination, Mr. Malfoy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HI, GUYS!</p>
<p>We have reached THE END! What an incredibly angsty ride it has been! Thank you so much for all the love and support I got from all of you! I was nervous to post a Dramione work on AO3, but I'm so happy I decided to go for it! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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